The House of Hades
by I am that Writer
Summary: Set in Jason, Hazel, and Annabeth's point of views. The remaining Seven will have to face the Doors of Death while rescuing their friends from Tartarus, a monster army led by the giant Clytius, and attempt to prevent an all-out Greeks and Romans war. But Percy and Annabeth have the worst: If they can make it through Tartarus, they must confront the challenging House of Hades.
1. I Jason

**Hi! This is my first author's notes of many in this story, and I hope they don't get too annoying. I just wanted to wish you luck on your reading! It's pretty long. And what a ride you're in for—and I mean it quite literally, as of the chapters on the _Argo II_. This story starts a little on the slow side, with explanations and the demigods figuring out what they're going to do next. But the action starts up pretty soon. Throughout the story, you'll follow Jason, Hazel, and Annabeth's point of views. In Jason's chapters, he and Frank, along with the Athena Parthenos, will have to make a trip in one of Leo's flying boats to sail back to Camp Half-Blood. There, they will try to convince the Romans and Greeks not to start a war, as the Romans have just arrived at the camp and have started attacking. In Hazel's chapters, she, Leo, Piper, Nico, and Coach Hedge must sail on to the Doors of Death in Epirus, Greece and save Percy and Annabeth from Tartarus and close the Doors. What they don't know is that a monster army sent from Gaea and led by the giant, Clytius, is on their trail. . . . And as for Annabeth's chapters . . . she and Percy must travel through Tartarus, lead by a mysterious man who calls himself Tenebris, and face the House of Hades and its challenges. Oh! And I also do a Book of the Day in each chapter of my favorite books or books I have recently finished. So read, review, and enjoy! Peace out (as Leo would say).**

**-I am that Writer**

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**I**

**JASON**

**It was the smile.** His smile was really starting to get to Jason.

The dragon wouldn't stop grinning. At least, Jason _hoped_ he was grinning. The way he bared his bright-white teeth didn't have to be in a friendly way.

Jason clenched his teeth. "Stop it!" he demanded. When Festus didn't respond, Jason sighed. "Please stop, Festus."

Jason was standing on the deck at the front of the _Argo II_, leaning against a wall, his arms crossed over his chest.

Festus paid no attention to Jason's demand. He instead cocked his head to the side and, if it were possible, seemed to be grinning even _more_ now.

Jason sighed again, giving up. "Fine," he huffed, and turned on his heel, deciding to recline in his room instead. The front deck of the _Argo II_ hadn't turned out to be such a good place to try to find some quiet time, with the annoying five-ton metal head of a dragon close by. Jason had only been trying to be alone for a while, entertained with his grim, worrying thoughts; like everyone else had been trying to find some space, since the news . . .

Festus suddenly loosed a small fireball, which hit the wall near Jason's head where he walked. Jason looked over to see the wood now black and crumbling. He whipped his head around and shot Festus an angry look. "Seriously, man—"

Suddenly Jason heard a shout behind him. "Festus! You don't _purposely_ loose fireballs on guests like that!"

Jason turned and saw Leo walking toward the front of the deck, taking long, purposeful strides toward Festus.

Leo stepped up to the dragon and smacked his bronze face. "There, and you're grounded for the whole day! No, the whole week! No more fireballs!" Leo demanded.

Festus whimpered.

Jason almost smiled at Leo and his dragon.

Almost.

But since the news about Percy and Annabeth, none of the _Argo II_'s crew had felt very humorous. Even Leo, the joker, the hilarious comedian, had been more sober, less funny lately. It had affected them all. Even when Nico had claimed they were alive . . . in Tartarus . . . everyone had been so worried, it took effort just to smile—but Jason gave effort, tried to smile around everyone—especially Piper—he gave extra effort around her, tried to keep up her spirits, as she'd been especially downhearted lately—so that everyone would be able to continue their mission. Their quest—which Percy had issued himself, to Nico, before he and Annabeth had fallen. . . .

They had to sail on the _Argo II_ to the Doors of Death—where Jason prayed to Zeus they would meet Percy and Annabeth there, on the other side.

Nico had said they were alive. They were _alive_. Jason had to keep telling himself that, though he resisted the urge to run to Nico every second and ask for an update on Percy and Annabeth's life-essence—this was _Tartarus_ they had fallen in.

Who knows what they'd be facing right now?

Of course, they were probably too far away now for Nico to even be able to tell if they were alive . . .

Jason blinked as he realized Leo was talking.

"Yeah, I know, it's been affecting us all. I mean, I heard Hazel _crying_ in her room the other day. I'm like, _Magic tool belt! Tissues!_"

Jason allowed himself a small smile and shook his head. Leo. Good old Leo.

He suddenly realized Leo was studying him.

"Hey, you okay, man?" Leo asked, sounding worried.

"Yeah." Jason forced himself to speak, even tried to sound lighthearted. "I'll be fine."

"Yeah, we'll get through this somehow, right?" Leo held up his hand and offered a half-hearted fist-bump.

Jason raised his fist and bumped it gently against Leo's. He tried for a smile, but it came out more as a grimace. "I think I'll go check on Piper," he said.

"Okay. You do that," Leo mumbled, and Jason could see he was entertaining himself, almost subconsciously, by stroking Festus's snout. The dragon became quiet and content, sometimes emitting low growling sounds of pleasure.

Jason sighed, then turned and left, walking down the long deck of the _Argo II_. When he finally came to Piper's bedroom door, he realized it was closed, and wondered if she wanted to be alone. Hesitantly, he raised a hand and knocked lightly on the wood.

"Come in," a voice said from the inside—Piper's voice. Beautiful as always, sweet from the Charmspeak she sometimes used, but sounding thick with worry.

Jason opened the door and stepped inside. "Piper?" he asked. "I just came to check on you . . ."

His eyes fell upon her. She sat on her bed, which was messy and crumpled, the sheets disarranged, the pillows strewn around. Piper herself wore a wrinkled pair of jeans and an old loose white T-shirt. Her hair was messy and looked like it hadn't seen a hairbrush in weeks. But even in her state, she looked beautiful to Jason.

When Piper saw him, she immediately looked self-conscious. "Oh. Jason . . ." She started tugging at her T-shirt, which Jason found cute.

"How are you doing?" he asked, and came to sit at the edge of the bed by her.

She shrugged. "Okay, I guess . . ." But Jason could tell she'd had it tough. He wasn't surprised. Over the months they'd spent at Camp Half-Blood, Piper had become quite good friends with Annabeth. To lose her unexpectedly like this couldn't be easy . . .

He leaned over and lightly brushed his fingertips over her arm, trying to act casual about it, but just touching her sent a shiver up him. "Hey, it'll be okay. Percy said he'd meet us on the other side of the Doors of Death, and Nico said—"

"I know what Nico said," Piper interrupted bitterly. Then she sighed. "They're alive. For _now_. But Jason, this is Tartarus . . ."

His thoughts exactly.

"Piper McLean," he tried to reassure her, "this is _Percy Jackson_. The one they've been talking about at Camp all those months." Jason stopped suddenly, startled, when he realized he'd said _Camp_ like he used to talk about Camp Jupiter—but this time he'd been talking about Camp Half-Blood. Did he now think of Camp Half-Blood as his home? He tried to continue, unwavered. "And if that's not enough, Annabeth's with him. You know her. If she's not the strongest, toughest, most stubborn daughter of Athena I know, then I don't know what she is. They'll be fine together."

"I just hope they _stay_ together," Piper said softly. "Then they might be able to look out for each other. It will be a tough journey for them both, besides."

"Are you kidding? We could hardly separate them on the _Argo II_," Jason said, and he smiled when he succeeded in making Piper laugh softly. "Besides, we won't get anywhere worrying like this. We've got to stay strong for them—and so we can get to the Doors of Death."

"You're right." Piper smiled, then leaned forward and put her hand around his neck and rested her forehead against his, just smiling and staring into his eyes. Jason sucked in his breath and found himself caught up in Piper's beautiful kaleidoscope-colored eyes. Like he sometimes tried to do, Jason picked out one of the colors in her eyes and tried to follow it as it danced across her iris. This time he chose the sparkling green color, and watched as a tiny bit shimmered and danced around. It was so hard to keep track of it, that the game was just as bit as entertaining as beautiful.

"I'm glad you're here for me," Piper whispered softly. Then she closed her eyes, and Jason obediently snapped his shut. He leaned toward Piper and could just feel her lips brushing his when her bedroom door burst open. Jason quickly pulled away from Piper, and looked up at a red-faced Frank standing in the doorway.

"Um . . . I just came to tell you that Coach Hedge has summoned everyone to the main room of the _Argo II_," Frank stammered. "He has something he wants to discuss with us."

Then he turned and fled.

Jason looked at Piper. "I guess we should be going?"

"Yeah." Piper suddenly looked so downhearted Jason wanted to hug her and tell her everything was going to be okay. "Yeah, we should." She stood up. "I wonder what Coach Hedge wants to discuss with us?"

Jason stood and took her hand as they headed toward the doorway. "I guess we'll find out."


	2. II Jason

**Well, there's some Jasper in this chapter, and (some) of the demigods have figured out what they're doing. So enjoy!**

**My first Book of the Day! – _Gregor the Overlander_ by Suzanne Collins, book one in The Underland Chronicles. Young adult–child fantasy. It's pretty cool. Go check it out!**

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**II**

**JASON**

**They were all gathered around** in the main room of the _Argo II_, sitting on random sofas and chairs. Jason sat with Piper on a short sofa, and Leo sat across from them by himself on a bigger sofa, fiddling with some electronic gadget in his hands. Hazel sat motionless on a rickety-looking chair, her eyes fixed straight ahead on a wall, her hands clasped together in her lap. Frank stood near her, leaning against a wall, his arms crossed. Nico was barely visible in the shadow of a wall which he leaned against with his arms crossed, too. Coach Hedge stood on top of a table in the middle of the room (probably so he'd seem taller and more threatening to them, even though they were all sitting), glaring at them, randomly swinging his baseball bat and smacking it against his palm, which made Jason flinch and want to put a protective arm around Piper.

They were all quiet, waiting for the coach to speak.

Finally Hedge cleared his throat and barked out, "So, cupcakes, we've all been pretty down since Percy and Annabeth fell into Tartarus, but this is not the way things are supposed to go! We've got to keep our chins up to continue our quest! If you jellyfishes don't suck it up we're not going to get to the Doors of Death, and I won't get to kick any monsters' butts!"

Everyone blinked and looked at each other. Was this a prep talk from the coach?

Coach Hedge fiddled with his baseball bat. "So, I got an important Iris-Message on the _Argo_'s CAM-system this morning from Camp Half-Blood"—here Piper and Hazel gasped, and all the boys sat up a bit straighter. Leo even put down his gadget and only fiddled with his fingers—"and they said they're in big trouble. They need help, because they're— Ah, heck, I'll just show it to ya." He hopped off the table and walked over to a desk area behind Leo's sofa. The Coach looked around a bit at the different computers there, then seemed to find the right one and raised his baseball bat over his head and smashed down.

Leo cried out and raised a hand but, amazingly enough, the computer seemed fine, and an activated video recording flickered onscreen.

Jason instantly recognized Chiron from Camp Half-Blood. He was panting heavily, sweat running down his arms and coating his shirt. His eyes and hair were wild; in his hand he clutched a long sword with a wicked sharp blade. Jason saw red smears on the edge of the blade, and he felt his stomach tighten.

"Greetings to you, crew members of the _Argo II_." Jason could almost detect a mocking tone in Chiron's voice—and that was _not_ good, because Chiron was hardly ever sarcastic. "I don't have time for any luxury greetings, because Camp Half-Blood is under attack." The flatness in his tone was more what made almost everyone in the room gasp than what he'd said.

But Jason didn't gasp. He felt his mouth tighten in a grimace.

He didn't gasp because he'd suspected it. He'd known Camp Half-Blood would soon be under attack.

He knew the Roman ways.

Almost automatically, Chiron continued. "A Roman siege group arrived only yesterday morning. It's small, but more are on their way, and we will be heavily outnumbered. We'll fight to the last camper—but I'm afraid that may happen. These Romans aren't listening to reason. I have tried to talk to them, to make peace, but they believe _we_ are attacking _their_ camp. They do not see any compromise in this battle; they want nothing but blood."

Just then an arrow flew over Chiron's head and he ducked.

"We can hold them off for a few more days," he continued, shouting now to be heard over the obvious noises of battle, "but we need help."

Jason's heart felt sick as he watched his fellow Romans, wearing the familiar armor and purple capes, fighting, in the background of the video, with the peaceful Camp Half-Blood demigods—only now they weren't the innocent, fun-loving campers he always remembered them by. The Greek demigods were aggressive and he could see hardened looks in their eyes, even through the video and from a distance. One girl behind Chiron, wearing jean shorts, an orange Camp Half-Blood T-shirt, and a breastplate hastily strapped to her chest was fighting ferociously with a Roman soldier, their Imperial Gold and Celestial Bronze blades clashing. The girl took the hilt of her sword and slammed it into the Roman's helmet, crumpling the metal. The Roman fell unconscious onto the ground. Jason winced.

"Send us back some demigods and a miracle to stop this." The desperation in Chiron's voice was obvious. "We won't last much longer."

Just then a Roman swung their sword at Chiron, and Chiron quickly countered it. They sparred for a bit, then Chiron turned his head back toward the screen and said, "Hurry. Soon the full Roman attack will be here. May the gods grant you quick travel."

The screen went black.

• • •

"Well, obviously we should send Jason and Frank back," Coach Hedge piped up immediately.

Everyone else was still stunned from the video, and slowly looked over and blinked at him.

He snorted. "Well, isn't it obvious? They're the strongest—"

"Thanks," Leo mumbled.

"—and Frank can transport them to Camp Half-Blood. He can fly Jason there—as an eagle or something."

"Uh, I don't think I could fly that far myself—let alone with Jason on my back," Frank answered truthfully.

"Well, become something bigger, then. A dragon! Could you turn into one of those? I always liked dragons. Big, ferocious things. Like me." The coach pointed his thumbs at himself, forgetting the crisis at the moment.

"They could use one of the flying boats I have in the stables," Leo spoke up. Everyone turned their eyes onto him. He shrugged. "I have a few for emergencies, in case something happened to the _Argo II_, so we'd have passage back to Camp Half-Blood. They're pretty fast boats, too, and with only two people . . ." Leo shrugged again.

Hazel spoke up quickly. "Yes, it's actually a pretty good idea. Of course, they'd have to take the statue, which might slow them down, and which I have no idea how to use . . . But with a bit of luck, you could convince the Romans not to fight. Wasn't that what we got the statue for?"

Everyone else nodded or mumbled something in agreement.

Nico hesitated before speaking, and when he did, his voice rasped from being kept in a jar too long. "It _is_ a good idea," he said. "Maybe when the Romans see one of their own praetors—Jason—urging against war, they'll listen." He shrugged.

_But I'm not their praetor anymore,_ Jason wanted to argue. _They wouldn't have me back if I offered, after what happened. . . ._ Still, he got Nico's point.

Jason turned to look at Piper beside him. Leo, Hazel, and Nico seemed to have agreed to the plan quickly and confidently, but how was Piper taking it?

She met his gaze and gave him a sad, sweet smile.

_She doesn't want me to go,_ Jason realized, almost happily.

"How about you, Jason?" Coach Hedge grunted. "You want to sail off with this kid and the statue in a miniature boat?"

Jason took a deep breath. He looked over at Piper once more. She gave him an encouraging nod. Then Jason turned back and said, "Yes. I'll go. I suppose the rest of you will sail on to the Doors of Death?"

"Yeah," Leo said, not looking at Jason but back to fiddling with a gadget in his hands.

"Frank?" Hazel asked timidly, her voice quiet. "What about you?"

Frank looked at Hazel, hesitating. Then he glanced at Leo. He seemed to be struggling to decide. Finally, after a moment of debate, he muttered, "All right. I'll go."

"Then it's settled!" Coach Hedge rubbed his hands together enthusiastically. "Of course, I'll have to stay behind and guard these four, so you two are on your own. Think you can get on without your old coach behind you?"

"_Yes_," Jason muttered. He was mostly wondering how he'd get along without Piper.

"I guess I'll . . . um . . . go get the boat ready," Leo muttered.

"And I can help!" Hazel offered.

"Whoa—wait—_I'm_ helping, too," Frank spoke up. "I mean . . . I can load the statue."

"Of course, Frank." Hazel gave him a sweet smile which made Frank look happily satisfied, and Leo scowl.

They all started to hurry off, when Coach Hedge put an arm out and stopped Frank.

"Remember, you aren't there to _fight_," the coach reminded him—he looked at Jason, too, as he spoke. "You're there to make peace. That's what this is all about. There's no time to waste, so you might as well leave today—I'll give you an hour to get ready. Go and come back as fast as you can—meet us at the Doors of Death if possible. We'll need you there."

Jason nodded with Frank in union. Then he felt a short tap on his arm.

He looked over to see Piper looking expectantly at him.

"Um, Jason?" she said. "I thought we could take a walk."

• • •

They strolled the deck of the _Argo II_, Piper's hand clutched firmly in Jason's.

"You'll be away for days," she said sadly. "Maybe a week or more."

"Hey, Pipes, it won't be that bad," Jason told her. "We'll see each other again in a short time—then we can find Percy and Annabeth and get this whole thing over with."

Piper sighed, tightening her grip on his hand. "It's all so complicated. Why did it have to happen? Percy and Annabeth falling, I mean. And Leo accidentally firing the ballista on Camp Jupiter. Then the Romans wouldn't have declared war on Camp Half-Blood, and you wouldn't have to go. . . . None of this . . . this mess should have even happened."

Jason was silent for a moment, and so was Piper. But silence was never awkward between them—that was another great thing about his girlfriend.

"I'll really miss you, you know," Jason finally spoke up.

"Me, too," Piper sighed.

"I—" Jason was about to continue, but suddenly Piper whirled to face him. She gave him a sweet smile before quickly leaning up and kissing him. Jason felt an electric charge stronger than any lightning bolt he could pull off shoot up his body. They stayed that way for a while until Jason finally got panicky when he imagined Coach Hedge coming onto the deck and seeing them like this, so he pulled away. But Piper didn't mind. They walked on a little longer and got to the end of the deck, leaning up against the railing, still holding hands.

"I'll just have Leo, Hazel, and Nico here to keep me company," Piper finally spoke up.

"Don't forget Coach Hedge," Jason reminded.

Piper smiled. "No. I couldn't forget him."

"And since Frank and I will be gone, and Percy and Annabeth are gone, you'll be the only one here to keep an eye on Leo and Hazel. I don't think Nico's used to having someone look after him."

Piper gave him a curious glance. "Leo and Hazel?"

"Ah—I didn't mean like that," Jason protested.

They had all noticed it—the tightness and uneasiness between Leo and Hazel, but the quick friendship growing between them. Frank, unfortunately, had noticed it too. He didn't say much about it, but Jason could tell Leo bothered him. Oh, boy, and Jason thought it was hard for _him_ to leave Piper behind.

"Just . . . just keep them out of trouble," Jason told Piper. "Frank won't be here to watch over Leo."

"I'll do what I can," Piper promised. She turned to look out over the seemingly endless sky. Fluffy white clouds scattered the blue.

Jason shifted on his feet. "Did you mean it?" he asked suddenly.

Piper turned to him with a puzzled expression on her face. "What?"

"When we were drowning in the pit of oil . . . you grabbed Percy and me, and just before we went under you said . . ."

"Oh." Piper blushed and looked down, not meeting his gaze. Then she looked back out into the sky.

Jason let out a big breath of air he'd been holding and looked down at his feet. He realized he shouldn't have expected Piper to answer. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, then finally looked back at her.

"Yes," she said, so softly that Jason was sure he wouldn't have heard it if he hadn't seen her lips move.

Jason was suddenly overwhelmed with a feeling of _happy_. He couldn't even speak when Piper turned to look at him, smiling.

"Why don't you take me for a ride?" she asked, gesturing over the side of the ship railing.

Jason nodded mutely. He tried to stop the grin that was crawling up his face as he put an arm around Piper's waist and jumped over the side of the ship.

They feel for a bit, Piper's strangled gasps of delight in his ear before Jason summoned his wind powers. The currents stopped them just a few hundred feet above the ground—but low enough so that Jason couldn't see the _Argo II_ anymore. But that was all right. Jason had a vague sense of direction. He'd get them back on the ship just fine.

Jason turned to face Piper and she put her arm over his shoulder, hugging him tight to her. Jason's nose was in her hair, breathing in the scent of her lotus shampoo. He lowered his head just a bit so his lips were near her ear before he whispered it.

"I love you, too."

He hoped she was grinning as hugely as he was.


	3. III Hazel

**The action starts at the end of the chapter. Enjoy!**

**Book of the Day – _The Hunger Games_; also by Suzanne Collins. She's a pretty awesome writer. Young adult dystopian. Book one in The Hunger Games Trilogy. It's a really popular series, so I assume most of you have already read it, but it's worth mentioning.**

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**III**

**HAZEL**

**Hazel shuffled down the deck of the ****_Argo II_****,** head bent, looking at her feet, so caught up in thought that she didn't realize she'd reached the stables until she bumped into Leo.

"Oh! Sorry," Hazel said quickly, backing away from Leo.

"Ah, it's no biggie." Leo smiled at her, which made Hazel feel a little better, less embarrassed. She was here to _help_, she told herself, not to run into people.

From the close distance, Hazel could see every speck in Leo's wild brown eyes, which made her a little uncomfortable and back away; still, she couldn't help noticing how cute he looked, with his messy, curly hair and suspenders and tool belt. Hazel became lost in thought again, then realized she was thinking about _him_—Sammy.

_Why can't I leave him behind?_ she thought. _Why can't I just forget him?_

Because every time she looked at Leo Valdez's face, at his crazy grin and eyes, she couldn't help remembering Sammy.

It was difficult for Hazel, trying to leave the past behind. All the adventures she'd shared with Leo lately, she'd had to try hard and keep reminding herself that he was _Leo_, not Sammy. The blackout she and Leo had shared helped, though. It was a little easier for her now.

"Um . . . you wanna help me ready the boat?" Leo asked awkwardly.

Hazel nodded and looked down at her feet again. "That's what I'm here for."

"Okay!" Leo brightened. "You can grab that rope over there, and pull it over here so I can tie it around this thing . . ."

His hands gesturing madly in every direction, Hazel almost smile at Leo's behavior. And she was grateful he'd given her a job; quickly, she hopped to the task of untying the thick rope that held the boat to the stable wall.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps sounding behind her. Hazel turned her head a bit and caught sight of Frank coming up toward Leo and her. Even with a slight scowl on his face, and his arms crossed, Hazel's heart lifted to see her boyfriend. Even in his obviously cross mood, he still resembled a big cuddly teddybear to Hazel. An angry teddybear, maybe.

Leo noticed Frank, too. "Hey, you think you can get the statue for us?" Leo asked.

Frank nodded and continued past Hazel and Leo to belowdecks, where the statue was being kept.

"Well, I guess we'd better hurry," Leo said. "Coach Hedge said Frank and Jason are leaving in about an hour."

"Does the boat really take that long to get ready?" Hazel asked, surprised.

"Nah," Leo said, shaking his head. Hazel thought he looked cute when he did this. The corners of his mouth turned down a bit, and his nose wrinkled. "But I thought I'd get some PB&J before we see them off. I'm hungry. Aren't you hungry? I can hear my stomach growling. Not that it doesn't _always_ growl . . . I _am_ a growing boy . . ."

"Not really." Hazel noticed Leo was rambling—something he didn't do—though he did _talk_ a lot—unless he was nervous.

She figured he had something on his mind.

Hazel frowned. "Leo? What's PB and . . ."

"PB&J?" Leo looked shocked. "Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches! Don't tell me you've never heard of them."

Hazel swept a curl behind her ear, which had fallen in her face. "_Of course_ I know what peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are. My mom used to make them for me, when I was younger . . ."

"Well, how about you have some with me after we're done here?" Leo grinned at her. "I know Piper's got lots in the kitchen . . ."

Hazel eyes lit up. "Frank, too?" she asked, excited by the idea.

Leo's face fell a bit. He looked down at his feet and kicked something on the deck. "Yeah. Frank, too," he finally agreed.

Hazel was sorry for upsetting him. But Leo got upset by such little things she said, lately, it frustrated her—one mention of Frank and he practically burst into flame. Of course, the same could be said with Frank. And Hazel had thought the boys were getting along better now . . .

While Leo was still focused on the ground, Hazel finished untying the rope, and gently laid it in Leo's hands.

Leo looked up, surprised. Then he flashed a grin at her—that crazy twist of his mouth that made Hazel feel fluttery inside. He quickly wound it around a nearby post, proceeding to tie it, but Hazel could see he was having trouble. The rope was very thick.

"Do you need help?" Hazel asked.

"Um . . . sure," Leo said, his voice obviously strained.

Hazel went over to him and grabbed part of the rope nearer to the post. She pulled hard so Leo could tie it. But her hands accidentally slipped down the rope and on top of Leo's. Hazel gave a little gasp and quickly released the rope, catching Leo by surprise, so he let his hands go loose—causing all his rope work to flop in a pile around the post.

"I'm sorry," Hazel said, clasping her hands behind her back and looking at the floor.

"Hey, it's fine. You _do_ seem pretty jumpy, though, lately," Leo added, jumping on his feet. Hazel didn't point out that he seemed pretty nervous, too.

Just then, Frank came back, carrying the statue. He didn't notice the awkwardness between Hazel and Leo, and set the statue down in front of the boat.

_That's_ when he noticed that Hazel and Leo were looking everywhere but at each other.

"Um . . . is everything okay?" Frank asked suspiciously.

"Oh, yeah," Leo said, brushing off his shirt. He cocked his head at Frank. "Think you can tie a rope?"

"Sure," Frank said. He had the rope tied to the post in less than a minute.

"Now . . . I guess we'll get the supplies for you and Jason and load them in the boat," Leo said to Frank, rubbing his hands together so quickly Hazel was sure she saw a spark. "I heard Coach Hedge and Nico were getting them ready . . . they should be done by now."

"But first—PB&J!" Hazel insisted, putting an index finger in the air.

Frank gave her a curious look as all three of them headed down to the kitchen of the _Argo II_ for a snack.

"Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches," Hazel explained.

• • •

Frank had already wolfed down six sandwiches by the time Hazel was on her second. Even Leo was a faster eater than her, just finishing up his fourth. Peanut butter and jelly had never tasted better to Hazel . . . except for maybe that time when her mother made her and her friend Ruth a couple of sandwiches when she was little . . .

_No,_ Hazel told herself. _I am _done_ with flashbacks._

They were all sitting around a small table on stools in the _Argo II_'s kitchen. There was complete silence, except for the sound of munching.

"So were Nico and Coach Hedge done with the supplies?" Frank asked with his mouth full of sandwich.

"Yep." Leo was also talking with his mouth full. Hazel took took a tiny, neat bite of her own sandwich, trying to hide her disgust. _Boys._ "And Jason's off somewhere with Piper, so we probably won't see _them_ in a while." Leo chuckled, sending little bits of food flying.

Hazel listened halfheartedly as Leo continued talking about everyone on the _Argo II_, while she just slowly chewed her sandwich. Eventually, Hazel realized he was talking nervously, like when she'd been helping him get the boat ready, and she wondered what was bothering him.

Frank seemed to have caught on, too. "Leo, are you all right?" he asked.

Leo choked on a bite of his sandwich and spent half a minute coughing into his fist. "Oh, yeah," he rasped, when he finally finished. "Never been better."

"Hmm. Well, you seem kinda nervous . . ." Frank said. He scratched his head for a moment, thinking. "Hey, is it about—"

"Uh, Frank?" Hazel asked quickly. "Do you think you could get me a glass of water?" She glanced down at her sandwich and started picking at it. "It's making me thirsty," she muttered.

Frank nodded a bit too quickly, making Hazel feel guilty for using the excuse just to get him out of the kitchen. "Yeah, sure," he said. He stood up and left without a backward glance.

Hazel clasped her hands on top of the table and leaned toward Leo. "Now, Leo, what's bothering you?" she asked quietly.

Leo blinked. Then he sighed. "I can't hide anything from you, can I, Hazel?"

She shook her head.

He sighed again, then began fidgeting with his hands. It was a minute before he spoke. "I guess I'm feeling . . . guilty recently. Real guilty."

"About what?" Hazel asked. "If you did something bad, then you should talk to someone about it. Don't try to hide it. That's always worse." She took a good look at his guilt-stricken face and realization flooded through her. "Oh. Is it about Percy and Annabeth? 'Cause there's nothing you can do to help them, you know."

"No, it's _really_ bad," Leo said. He wouldn't look up from his hands. "I can't tell anyone, because—" His voice cracked and he slumped in his chair, putting his head in his hands. Hazel barely heard his next whisper: "It's all my fault."

"What, Leo?" Hazel asked. She reached across the table and gently pulled one of his hands down from his face. "You know you can talk to me."

"Sure." Leo finally gave a quick, flitting glance at her face. "But I know you won't talk to _me_ if I tell you."

"It can't be that bad." Hazel tried to sound assuring. "Did you mess up something in the engine room? 'Cause I'm sure—"

"What? Annabeth could help me fix it? She's not here, Hazel." Leo's voice was bitter. "And that's _not_ the problem. I'm pretty sure I could fix any minor mess up in the engine room. The problem is that—"

He broke off as they both heard Frank's returning footsteps—then Hazel realized she was still lightly holding Leo's hand, and quickly released it, forcing her hand under the table and into her lap.

Frank came in and handed Hazel a cup of water. She thanked him with a smile.

Frank sat down, and they all resumed eating their sandwiches in silence, Hazel sometimes flitting Leo little puzzled glances, he catching her gaze and looking guiltily away.

Hazel finally glanced at a clock on the kitchen wall. "Well," she said, breaking the silence, "we should get back to the stables. It's been an hour."

• • •

Everyone looked a bit sad and dismal—even Nico, who barely knew Frank or Jason.

Hazel, especially, was having her own hard time. She tried to put a cheerful face, to make Frank feel better, but instead ended up trying not to cry. Frank stood next to her as Leo carelessly swung Jason and Frank's supplies (which Coach Hedge had packed neatly into two backpacks) in the boat. Coach Hedge was standing near Jason, who was holding Piper's hand, giving him some lecture about who to fight and who not to—though most of it was who to fight, and he gave lots of advice on _that_.

"All right, enough wasting time," Coach Hedge said finally. "Get in the boat, you two."

Neither Jason or Frank immediately followed Coach Hedge's order. Jason whispered something in Piper's ear, and a smile lit up her face. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek before he climbed in the boat. Frank turned around to face Hazel, and Hazel found her breath caught in her throat.

"Frank—" she started, tears springing to her eyes.

Frank cut her off by roughly pulling her into a hug and kissing her. Hazel was so surprised, and Frank pulled away so quickly that she almost thought she'd imagined it.

Except for the fact that when she turned around, Leo was steaming behind her.

"Bye, Hazel," Frank muttered.

Hazel couldn't speak.

Then Frank gave Leo a sharp look and said, "Take care of her," before nodding to everyone else and climbing in the boat.

Leo looked surprised, but Hazel saw that after Frank's back was turned he gave one, jerky nod. Then Leo hurried forward and untied the rope that held the boat to the stables, and gently pushed it off the side of the ship, where it started to float away in the air.

There were cried of "Bye!" and "See you soon!" and "Beat up some Romans for me!" (from Coach Hedge) and "No, Coach, they're going to _stop_ the fighting" (from Piper) and a disappointed mumble: "Oh" (from Coach Hedge). Frank and Jason waved until the boat sailed out of sight.

Hazel hadn't said anything. Just waved until her arm ached.

Nico turned to face everyone. "I think it's time we had a talk," he said in his raspy voice. "About Percy and Annabeth, and what they face in Tartarus."

"Lunch in the kitchen?" Piper suggested.

Coach Hedge nodded. "Yeah, I feel like some PB&J!"

Hazel's stomach groaned.

• • •

Nico was waiting for them all to get comfortable in the lounge (Hazel had finally convinced Coach Hedge that it was more comfortable than the kitchen, though he'd still insisted on bringing in sandwiches). Hazel's brother sat with his hands clasped on his knees, watching them with his dark, intense eyes.

Everyone was deadly quiet, waiting for Nico to speak, but the son of Hades seemed to be taking his time.

Well, everyone was deadly quiet except for the annoying munching of Coach Hedge, as he chewed down his peanut butter and jelly sandwiches—two or three whole ones at a time.

Finally, Nico cleared his throat. When he spoke, his voice still sounded raspy. Hazel's own throat clenched in sympathy; she'd always had trouble with sore throats, as a child.

"I've been to the Underworld." Nico paused a moment, as though to let this sink in, but it was no surprise to anyone. "My father's palace—that's where Percy and Annabeth will go. That's the only way to get out of Tartarus—if you were lucky enough to even get close to it, that is."

"Why?" Piper asked worriedly. "What dangers do Percy and Annabeth face traveling through Tartarus?"

Nico thought a moment before he answered, rubbing a few knuckles over his throat. "First off, there's Gaea's minions. We all know how bent Gaea is on keeping us from closing the Doors of Death. She'll do everything in her power to send foes to Percy and Annabeth—not to kill them, exactly. Probably capture them. But who knows if she'll even care when they get to the Doors; she might kill them anyway. She wouldn't be out of demigods, after all. There's still us to capture.

"So, Percy and Annabeth will be up to their elbows in monsters—not to mention the regular ones in Tartarus. And that's another thing—say Percy and Annabeth ran into one of the old monsters they'd killed. Percy killed the Minotaur, right?"

Most of them just shrugged, but Leo nodded. "Yeah, twice. I heard about that at Camp."

Nico laced his fingers on his lap. "Well, what if they ran into _him_? The Minotaur would no doubt remember Percy. I'm not sure, but I think monsters might be stronger in Tartarus—it takes a lot out of them when they come back to life, years later."

Hazel shifted uncomfortably. She didn't like the sound of Percy and Annabeth's odds so far.

"Then, even if they can somehow get past all those monsters, there's still the rivers they'll have to go through."

"Rivers?" Coach Hedge snorted. "Don't sound so bad. Those monsters are more what I'd be worried about."

Nico shook his head. "Oh, no, the rivers are by far more treacherous. I'm not sure, but I think they have a way of tricking you, each in their own, cruel way. There's the Phlegethon, which leads into the depths of Tartarus. It's huge, so Percy and Annabeth can't miss it. My father likes to think of it as "the river of fire;" how Percy and Annabeth will counter it, I don't know. Then there's the Acheron, the Pyriphlegethon, and the Cocytus rivers, which flow throughout the Underworld, and come to a meeting point at my father's palace, which is called the 'Necromanteion' or the 'House of Hades.' The rivers translate as 'Joyless,' 'Burning Coals,' and 'Lament.'"

"And what of this temple of your father's? Tell us more about it," Piper said.

Nico shifted in his chair and rubbed the head of the giant skull ring on his middle finger. Hazel could tell he was worn out from talking, so she decided to take over. Besides, she figured she knew as much as Nico about Hades's palace.

"The Necromanteion means 'Oracle of Death,' though it mostly goes by the name the 'House of Hades,'" Hazel said. "It's a palace devoted to Hades and Persephone, located on the bank of the Acheron river, the 'doorway to Hades' a.k.a. the Doors of Death. It's also a meeting place for the living and dead. See, there's a top and bottom floor of the palace, for the living and the dead, and then a 'Temple of Adis' nearby, which is where the living and dead can meet. What happens is the living visit the House, eat a meal of beans, pork, barley bread, and oysters, go through a cleansing ritual, sacrifice a sheep, then descend into the cave system below the temple. There Minos, the judge of the Underworld, poses a series of questions for them before they can continue on to the Temple of Adis. But first, to get to the temple, there's a series of tunnels they have to go through, which are very tricky, created by Athena herself, who agreed to design the tunnels after Hades helped her with assisting Perseus in his quest to kill Medusa."

"Hmm, that's interesting; I've been reading up on my Greek Mythology lately, but I haven't heard that bit about the tunnels," Piper said.

"People rarely do," Hazel said. "I guess you could say Nico and I are 'fortunate,' being children of Hades."

"But none of this has to do with Percy and Annabeth, right?" Leo asked anxiously. "They won't, like, have to go through the tunnels, right?"

Hazel shrugged. "Not necessarily. I'm just giving the background information of the House of Hades."

"You don't know that Hades will even agree to let them in his palace," Piper said. "Then how would they meet us at the Doors of Death and help us close them?"

"_We'll_ have to find some way to convince Hades to be agreeable, before Percy and Annabeth reach the palace," Nico decided. He rubbed his throat again. "They _have_ to be allowed inside—it's their only way out of Tartarus. Maybe I could make a quick trip to the Underworld and talk to Dad . . ."

"No, no," Hazel said quickly. "You're still weak from your encounter with the giants. It's not a bad idea, but I wouldn't jump down to the Underworld so soon."

Coach Hedge grunted and smashed his baseball bat on the ground, for no reason, making Hazel jump. "So, basically, Percy and Annabeth have to defeat Gaea's minions, their old, dead foes in Tartarus, counter the rivers, escape some creepy ritual and tunnels at the Temple of Adiwhatsit to make it to this House of Hades, not even sure if Hades is in the agreeable mood lately to let them in to close the Doors and get out of Tartarus?"

"That about sums it up," Nico rasped.

• • •

All the uplifting talk in the lounge left Hazel feeling a little weary. So after a bit of an awkward silence, with everyone sitting quietly and staring down at their laps, Hazel finally stood and stretched her arms, announcing that she was going to lie down for a bit in her room. After that everyone quickly stood and resumed their normal activities (Nico, new on the boat, was persuaded by Coach Hedge to a tour of the _Argo II_, though he managed to quickly pull Hazel aside and admit that he was a little tired, too, and would rest soon).

But back in her room, stretched out on her cozy bunk, with its thick wool blankets and soft, downy pillows, Hazel found she couldn't sleep. She was just too preoccupied with her thoughts: of worrying for Percy and Annabeth in Tartarus, wondering how they would find their way to the Doors of Death down there; worrying for Frank and Jason, now on their quest to Camp Half-Blood, to stop the Romans and Greeks from fighting; worrying for herself, Leo, Piper, Nico, and Coach Hedge (well, not really worrying for _him_—Hazel was pretty sure that crazy old warrior faun—_Satyr,_ she reminded herself—could take care of himself) on their quest to find the Doors of Death, and save Percy and Annabeth.

But not all of Hazel's thoughts were worries . . . she'd been thinking about Leo, too.

Hazel couldn't help it. His messy, curly hair, wild eyes, and crazy smile filled her dreams. She caught herself thinking about him in little bits all the hours of the day.

Hazel sighed. She wasn't exactly sure what she thought of Leo. He seemed nice enough, he was funny, he was, Hazel admitted, cute . . . And she'd been starting to get to know him, and liking him, when she learned that _Sammy_—her Sammy, her old boyfriend from the 1940s—was Leo's _great-grandfather_. That made everything weird and complicated—or _more_ complicated. Hazel had already been fixed on trying to think of Leo as just a friend (she was Frank's girlfriend, after all), when all that changed.

She wondered if showing Leo the flashback—if seeing the flashback herself—had been wise.

Eventually Hazel sighed and sat up. She knew she wouldn't be getting any sleep. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, stretching her stiff arms and legs—she hadn't been lying down too long, but after all the action she'd been apart of lately, even lying down for a half hour made her body feel like she was over-resting.

She went out of her bedroom and tried for a peaceful stroll down the deck of the _Argo II_. Leo's ship was truly magnificent. Hazel couldn't imagine even being a part of building something so great . . .

She went up to a rail and leaned against it. Hazel caught her breath. The light was fading. The orange-and-purple sky looked magnificent, spotted with white clouds. Then Hazel looked down. Even though she wasn't afraid of heights, the sudden _idea_ of how high they were up made her legs feel a bit wobbly.

She steadied herself and pushed away from the railing a bit. _No,_ she told herself sternly, _I already get sick on boats, that's bad enough. I won't get airsick, too._

Sudden footsteps behind her startled her. Hazel swung around. She caught her breath when she saw Leo. He was totally unaware of her, walking hurriedly to a door which led to the lower deck, rummaging in his tool belt and muttering to himself.

Hazel slowly exhaled. She couldn't help noticing how well the sky's sunset colors reflected off Leo's skin.

There must have been a loose board or something under Hazel's foot (or maybe it was Festus, a couple yards off, though he'd been quiet enough lately), because she heard a squeak, and Leo's head whipped up to look at her. She saw a serious expression on his face for once, and suddenly Hazel could _totally_ imagine him in command of building this ship. Then his usual impish grin came back and Hazel's legs felt more wobbly—and not from the heights.

"Hey, Hazel!" Leo called cheerfully.

"Hey," Hazel answered quietly.

Leo came over to stand by her. "Do you think Jason and Frank will be all right? I'm pretty sure Jason can handle himself, but . . ."

"Yes." Hazel's shoulders slumped. "But I'll miss Frank . . ."

"Yeah." Leo scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "But, you know, we can't waste too much time dwelling on them—we've got our own quest to worry about."

Hazel nodded. "Do you think you can get us to the Doors of Death?"

Leo grinned and pointed his thumbs at himself. "Girl, do you know who you're talking to? This is Bad Boy Leo here, Supreme Commander of the _Argo II_! Of _course_ I can get us to the Doors of Death. Will it be easy? Probably not. Will we get attacked by monsters? Most definitely." Leo shrugged and started pacing, muttering to himself. "Hmm . . . maybe I should actually install that chicken nugget smoke screen . . . Might save us a couple of monster fights . . ."

"Leo," Hazel said gently. "You're rambling."

Leo looked up, startled, as though he hadn't known she'd been listening.

"You were going to tell me what was bothering you, in the kitchen," Hazel reminded him.

Leo nodded, but his eyes looked distant. He shoved his hands in his pockets and cleared his throat. "Well, we're alone, and I guess you're the best person to tell . . . I admit it's been bothering me for a while, and it'd be nice to tell someone. . . . I can't promise you'll like it, though," he warned.

Hazel nodded for him to go on.

Leo sighed. "Remember when we went to the Great Salt Lake in Utah, to get the lime and Celestial bronze? Well, remember we—"

Just then a roar sounded nearby and the deck shook. Hazel stumbled and lost her footing, and found herself caught in Leo's arms. He helped her up, but they just fell at each other again. The whole ship was shaking; there was another giant roar, and Hazel thought she saw a dark flash of something on the other side of the _Argo II_.

"What the—" Leo began, stumbling once more, and grabbing onto Hazel's arm for support.

Hazel sucked in her breath. "I think it must be a—"

"MONSTER!" Piper's voice shouted from the other side of the deck near the roaring.

Then there was Coach Hedge's shouts: "YEAH! BRING IT ON!"

Hazel turned to Leo. "You got any useful weaponry in that magic tool belt of yours? I left my dagger in my room."

"Uh . . ." Leo fumbled in a pocket of his tool belt and pulled out two giant wrenches. He tossed one to Hazel. "Think you can manage this?"

She eyed the weapon in her hand before nodding. "Yep. Hope it's the right kind of monster."


	4. IV Hazel

**This is not just some random monster attack—and the reasoning is explained toward the end. Enjoy!**

**Book of the Day – _Heist Society_ by Ally Carter. Young adult crime. Think girl version-Artemis Fowl, but I think it would work for boys too. Book one in the three-book Heist Society series. Kat's pretty cool.**

**(Oh, and a note to those of you reading through this story: I would be very grateful if you reviewed this chapter. It only has 1 review; it is my least-reviewed chapter. Seriously, tell me what you thought. :)**

* * *

**IV**

**HAZEL**

**It ****_was_**** the right kind of monster.** Hazel found it easy. She just followed Coach Hedge's shouts.

She and Leo ran toward the back deck of the _Argo II_, unable to help hearing Coach Hedge's loud, annoying war cries and shouts of: "YOU WANT A PIECE OF ME, YOU BIG ANNOYING HUNK OF FUR?"

"Fur?" Hazel gasped as she ran.

Leo shrugged beside her, his arms and legs pumping every bit as fast, if not faster, than hers. "How should I know? It could be a bear—bears are furry. Or a squirrel? Squirrels are nice and furry. Or a— Whoa!"

"Try a pack of giant killer bats," Hazel said grimly.

For above her and Leo's heads swooped a huge bat, at least twice the size of Leo, with thick black fur on its body, and huge black wings. But what really caught Hazel's eye were the razor-sharp claws on the bat's hands. She could just make out the figure of another bat flying toward Piper, a few feet to her right.

"What are _those?_ I've never seen _those_ before!" Leo shrieked.

Hazel and Leo came to a halt and Hazel raised her wrench above her head to shield herself as the bat gave a high-pitched screech and tried to swipe at her with its claws.

"They're _Desmodus draculae_! Bats. Except these are Greek monsters: huge and really annoying. I've only seen a couple before," Coach Hedge said. "You'll want to steer clear of those claws."

"Got it!" Hazel said.

Beside her, Leo was waving his wrench around like a maniac, trying to frighten the bat off. Hazel just held hers above her head for protection. The bat was trying to find a weak spot through Hazel and Leo's defenses.

Hazel glanced over at Piper and saw her raise her dagger and stab the bat fighting her in its body. The bat gave a shriek of outrage before it exploded in yellow monster powder, coating Piper.

"Agh!" Piper yelled. "That was my best shirt!"

"Keep it up, Beauty Queen," Leo muttered, still hopelessly swinging at his and Hazel's bat.

"AHG! Don't call me 'Beauty Queen,' Valdez! Or you're 'Repair Boy' for the next month!" Piper replied.

Hazel rolled her eyes and finally swung her wrench at the bat's head, knocking it square in the face so jarringly she felt her teeth rattle. This bat, too, exploded into dust.

"How many are there, Coach?" Piper gasped, already fighting another bat.

"At least five! Maybe seven or so!" Hedge replied cheerfully. "The more the merrier, eh?"

"Where's Nico?" Hazel wondered, as a new bat swooped down at Leo and her, squawking angrily at having seen two of its fellow monsters killed.

"That creepy death kid? I dunno!" Coach Hedge answered. "I can't keep track of _everyone_ on this ship! Gotta keep up my IIMW, too!"

"IIMW?" Leo wondered.

"Incredibly Important Monster Watch!"

Hazel hit a bat on the head with her wrench. All it did was make the creature angrier. The bat shrieked and shook its head before spreading its wings to full span, then opened its claws and charged for Hazel.

Hazel managed to dodge almost certain death as the monster swiped at her face, but she couldn't keep this up forever. She almost wished she had her dagger or spear to stab at the bat's body—that method seemed to be working for Piper, anyway. She was to the right of Hazel, totally coated in yellow monster dust. You couldn't even see the eagle's feather in her hair.

But then again, the wrench Leo had given Hazel was really great for hitting the bats on the head.

What they needed was something that could fly, so they could get on top of the bats—or something that could get in the air, anyway.

"Heads up!" Hazel heard Nico call behind her.

She turned her head to see her brother riding Mrs. O'Leary—a friendly hellhound who looked like a gigantic black dog, who had helped defend Camp Jupiter, so Hazel held great respect for her.

Hazel heard Piper gasp. "Nico, where did you get that?" Piper demanded, as Hazel's brother and the beast sailed over Hazel and Leo's heads. Obviously Piper hadn't been introduced to Mrs. O'Leary yet.

Nico took out his Stygian sword from a sheath at his side and slashed at the bat who'd almost clawed Hazel, who whimpered before it burst into dust.

"It's Mrs. O'Leary!" Nico said, as if it explained everything. "She's a hellhound!"

_"WOOF!"_ barked Mrs. O'Leary.

"Yes, well, I can _see_ that," Piper said.

"I haven't seen her in a while and actually wanted to visit her. I was resting in my room when I heard the battle, and thought Mrs. O'Leary could help. She gladly came to my call."

"Well, that's _wonderful_," Leo said sarcastically. Then he eyed the hellhound worriedly. "She won't, like, eat us after she's done serving you, or whatever, right?"

"No!" Nico urged Mrs. O'Leary to jump at another incoming bat, which he quickly finished off with his black blade. "She's very friendly!"

"Well, we can meet her after we're done here!" Piper said. A bat swooped at her and she drove her blade into it—_Katoptris_, Jason had called it, right?

Hazel noticed the bats were hesitating before charging them, now. She could see why. She counted up three piles of monster dust—plus the yellow powder coating Piper. That was four.

Nico drove his blade into a bat. It promptly exploded. That was five.

"Coach Hedge, how many did you say there were?" Hazel asked.

"Five or six or so!" the coach answered helpfully.

"Well, I think that was the last one!" Hazel said.

Everyone stopped swinging their weapons and looked up at the sky.

"Yeah, I think that was it," Leo said. He lowered his wrench, panting heavily.

"Why do you think they attacked us?" Piper asked.

Coach Hedge shrugged. "Probably just some hungry passing monsters."

"I don't know," Hazel said uneasily. "We don't usually just get attacked by 'hungry passing monsters.'"

"Really, Hazel?" Leo snorted. "'Cause I could name, oh, twenty times—"

"Hey, I was just saying, it's just a little odd—" Hazel began.

"They were _monsters_. As if they needed a reason to fight us," Leo interrupted. "And besides, you heard what Coach Hedge said."

Hazel's eyes flashed angrily. She didn't like it when people interrupted her.

"Guys?" Nico asked. Hazel barely heard him to the side of her where he'd dismounted Mrs. O'Leary, but she didn't pay attention, she was too angry.

"How do you know?" she demanded. "What if there was some reason—"

"Like what? Can you _think_ of any? 'Cause I sure can't."

"Well, if you'd stop talking, maybe I could think—"

"What? You have a problem with my talking?"

"Would you just STOP IT!" Hazel yelled.

"Well, you started it," Leo mumbled quieter (which wasn't very quiet). "You weren't making any sense, going on about the monsters having some reason to attack us. Like I said—_as if they need reason_."

"Leo!" Hazel cried.

"WOULD YOU TWO TAKE YOUR LOVER'S QUARREL SOMEWHERE ELSE!" Coach Hedge shouted.

Hazel and Leo blinked and both asked Hedge at the same time, "WHAT DID YOU SAY?!" Then threw angry glances at each other and looked away, crossing their arms.

"You heard me. This is one of the most classic lover's quarrels I've ever seen! And you try to drag your poor old coach into it—"

"You're not _my_ coach," Hazel said. "And we are. NOT. Lovers!" She could feel her face flushing hopelessly.

"Guys!" Nico said. Everyone ignored him.

"Really?" The coach snorted. "'Cause it sure sounded like it to me, you both going on about nothing really important—"

"GUYS!" Nico yelled.

They looked over at him and he said calmly, "Look at this."

Hazel, Leo, Coach Hedge, and Piper went to stand around Nico, who was kneeling in front of a pile of monster dust. Hazel dismissed the recent argument from her mind and focused on her brother.

"You see?" Nico asked quietly. Hazel noticed when he talked softer his voice didn't rasp so bad. "The bats—I should've known. They're Persephone's sacred animals. I only remembered when one turned into this." He stooped down and picked up a limp little plant in the monster dust.

"What is it?" Leo asked.

"A spoil of war," Nico explained.

"No, what is the plant?"

Hazel's question exactly, though she didn't admit it.

"It's a mint plant. One of Persephone's sacred items, besides the pomegranate." Nico plucked a mint leaf off of the plant.

"But why would Persephone's—your step-mother's—sacred animals attack us?" Piper wondered.

Hazel was beginning to understand just when Nico spoke.

"They _knew_ we'd kill it. Hades and Persephone, I mean. They were both in on it. Hades was probably just too proud to offer _his_ sacred animal. And I'm not sure Persephone was exactly _in_ on it—Hades probably persuaded her to help him."

"You're dad can be persuasive? Eww," Leo said.

"You have no idea," Nico muttered under his breath.

"But why would your dad _want_ you to kill his wife's sacred animals?" Piper asked, sounding totally confused.

"It was sort of a message—they were telling us to come visit them. Giving their permission. Hades—_Dad_—wants to talk over things about Percy and Annabeth."

"Does it matter when you go? I thought you were still weak, Nico," Piper said. Then she looked terribly ashamed. "I didn't mean it like that—of course one of us will go, it doesn't matter—"

"No, it has to be me, doesn't it?" Nico's shoulders slumped. Hazel heard him take a few, quick breaths before speaking again. "I—I guess I'll shadow-travel to the Underworld. Mrs. O'Leary is here, anyway. I won't stay long, just have a quick chat with Dad."

"No, Nico, you can't!" Hazel insisted. "You're still weak—"

"Um, sorry to interrupt"—Coach Hedge's tone was, surprisingly, sorry for once—"but I'm the nature-magic expert on health here, and I'm afraid to say it'll take longer than a few days for Nico to heal completely. So, if you're going soon, don't waste any time, boy. Go," Coach Hedge said.

Nico seemed surprised. Then he blinked a couple times and cleared his throat and nodded. "Yeah, I'll just pack a few things," he rasped.

"Like what?" Hazel wondered. "It's only a short trip."

"Sandwiches," Nico said. "I have a particular like for bologna sandwiches." He looked a bit sheepish. "I'll probably get hungry on the trip. And— Hey, what do you expect? I'm a growing teenage boy!" he said defensively at Piper's suspicious look.

"Okay, Nico." Hazel gave him a reassuring pat on the back. "I'll pack you your sandwiches. You'll leave now? Tonight? It's getting dark . . ."

"Yeah. The sooner I get it done with, the better," Nico said. "I don't particularly enjoy my talks with Dad."

Five minutes later Hazel was in the kitchen with Piper, conjuring up a few dozen bologna sandwiches with the magical plates from Camp Half-Blood Leo had brought on the ship, which Piper wrapped in plastic and placed in a backpack.

"Got any water bottles anywhere for my brother?" Hazel asked.

"Yeah, there's a pack under the sink," Piper said.

Hazel got three and stuffed them in the backpack.

The Seeing-Nico-Off ceremony wasn't unlike Frank and Jason's leaving; maybe less tears. Hazel was a little sad that her brother was leaving, and, she admitted, a little worried (she still thought he was too weak to go).

He was sitting on Mrs. O'Leary's back, backpack slung over his shoulder, near a big shadow on a wall in the belowdecks of the _Argo II_. Hazel couldn't gauge what Nico was feeling—his face was expressionless.

She hugged him and he got lots of pats on the back from everyone else.

"Bye, Nico. Be safe," Hazel said, waving.

Nico nodded in that solemn way that somehow always reminded Hazel that he was just a kid. His hand was on his Stygian sword at his hip, but he lifted it to give a short wave before he turned his face away and touched Mrs. O'Leary lightly on the head. The hellhound gave a short _"WOOF!"_—_very_ tame compared to the barks Hazel had heard her give—and bounded into the shadow and disappeared.

"Do you think he'll be all right?" Hazel asked anxiously.

Coach Hedge shrugged. "Probably."

Well, _that_ was encouraging.

Piper touched Hazel's arm. "He'll be fine."

"I heard shadow-travel takes a lot out of a person," Leo offered.

Hazel glared at him. She was still mad about their stupid fight earlier, and when she remembered it, she glared harder.

She turned back toward the now-empty wall. The shadow seemed to be swirling where Nico and Mrs. O'Leary had been.

"Be safe," Hazel whispered again.

* * *

**Aw, Nico. :(**


	5. V Annabeth

**Well, here's the first look at Annabeth's chapters! Although you don't get to see Tartarus just yet…**

**Book of the Day – _Deadweather and Sunrise_ by Geoff Rodkey. Book one in the three-book Chronicles of Egg series. (The third book comes out next spring! Can't wait! :D) Young adult–child pirate/adventure stuff. Pretty fantastic! I read the first book because Rick Riordan reviewed it on his blog, and also the cover is awesome.**

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**V**

******ANNABETH**  


**They were falling.**

As every second passed, their fall speed increasing faster and faster, Annabeth was only aware of the warm hand she held tightly in hers, the air rushing past her. She turned to Percy—even though she couldn't, and hadn't expected, to see his face in the inky darkness, and it took great effort to move her head in the strong winds pressing against her. Annabeth had only been trying to content herself with the thought that Percy was _there_. And she suddenly realized how hard it would be for her if she was alone right now.

_You're not getting away from me. Never again._

Annabeth squeezed Percy's hand tighter. She wondered if he could even feel her, the wind was so numbingly biting-cold.

_As long as we're together._

Annabeth had had her eyes open, but now she squeezed them shut and let her head lull, giving into the wind—though it didn't make her feel much better, as the wind still felt like it was trying to rip her head off.

After a long time—it seemed like hours to Annabeth, and who knows, maybe it was—she forced her head up and asked, her voice cracked from lack of water so long, "Percy?"

He didn't respond. Instant panic shot through Annabeth, though she tried to calm herself. _Stay cool, he probably just didn't hear you._ The thought couldn't help crossing her mind that he hadn't made any physical movement lately, which did not help her worrying—though there wasn't much to make besides hand-moving that Annabeth would be aware of, and his fingers had to be as numb and unmovable as hers by now.

"Percy!" she shouted. Then, giving his hand an extra-hard squeeze to perk him up, she screamed, "PERCY!" forcing all her wrath and bitterness about what had happened—their fall, the seeming hopelessness of this situation—into her voice. Not even the winds could her back.

A few seconds later a reply came. "YEAH! I'M HERE!"

Relief so great washed through Annabeth that it _almost _made her forget her predicament. Though only something almost godlike would be able to make her forget her broken ankle, lack of water, numb skin, and the horrible winds howling and pushing against every part of her.

"WHAT ARE WE SUPPOSED TO DO?" Annabeth could've added a few choice words to that sentence, but her parched tongue held her back.

"I DON'T KNOW!"

Suddenly something bumped into Annabeth—and _not_ Percy. She'd cuddled with her boyfriend enough to know what he felt like. She wasn't sure _what_ it was. What had fallen down in the hole with them?

_Well, Arachne, for one._

Annabeth still wasn't sure about The Weaver—what had happened to her? Was she killed, smashed against the rock sides of the pit when they'd first fallen in? Was she—this next thought made Annabeth shiver—still _alive_, falling helplessly through the darkness like Percy and herself?

She dismissed the thought, and focused on trying to figure out what had bumped her. She was sure it hadn't been Arachne. It wasn't furry enough.

_Then there was the whole parking lot behind the Emmanuel Building, which fell to rubble and into Tartarus with us when the _Argo II _broke through . . ._ Annabeth thought.

She felt another object bump lightly into her, maybe the same one, maybe something different, and this time she recognized its cold form.

Metal. _There were cars that fell into the pit with us. . . ._

"PERCY!" Annabeth screamed. "THERE ARE CARS HERE! JUST FALLING AROUND US!"

"SO?" he yelled back.

"I THINK WE SHOULD TRY TO MAKE SOMETHING OUT OF THEM TO BRACE OUR FALL WHEN WE HIT THE BOTTOM! IT MIGHT SAVE OUR LIVES!"

"_MIGHT?"_

"IT'S OUR ONLY CHANCE!"

"BUT HOW ARE WE GOING TO MAKE SOMETHING WHEN WE'RE GOING TO HIT THE BOTTOM ANY MINUTE?"

Flashbacks of what Arachne had said to Annabeth came to her mind.

_You have no idea how much hatred boils beneath us. The spiteful thought of _so _many monsters. . . ._

_You'll fall all the way to Tartarus._

_A one-way trip. A very hard fall._

"WE'VE ALREADY BEEN FALLING FOR HOURS!" Annabeth reasoned. "I DON'T THINK WE'LL REACH THE BOTTOM FOR A WHILE! WE SHOULD HAVE PLENTY OF TIME TO FASHION SOMETHING TO BREAK OUR FALL!"

"WELL, WHAT DO YOU SUGGEST WE MAKE?" Percy asked.

Annabeth thought for a moment. The cars had metal doors and roofs, and glass windows—_those_ wouldn't be any help; they would probably make their impact worse—and rubber tires. Tires? The rubber might cushion them when they hit the bottom, more likely bounce them off the floor of Tartarus . . .

Cushion! They could use the seat cushions from the cars!

"WHAT ABOUT A SORT OF LANDING MAT? WE COULD MAKE ONE OUT OF THE CAR SEAT CUSHIONS TO WRAP AROUND OURSELVES!" Annabeth suggested. "I'M SURE THERE'S SOME SEATS MADE OUT OF SOFT MATERIAL!"

There was a pause before Percy replied, "OKAY! LET'S GIVE IT A SHOT!"

Annabeth guessed he must be getting as tired as she was from all this shouting. Her throat was starting to feel sore. . . .

"BUT HOW ARE WE GOING TO GET THE SEATS OUT OF THE CARS? WON'T THEY SMASH INTO US IF WE EVEN GET NEAR THEM, AT THE SPEED WE'RE GOING?" Percy asked.

"I DON'T THINK SO! I FELT ONE OF THEM ONLY LIGHTLY BUMP INTO ME! YOU KNOW GALILEO'S THEORY? THAT TWO OBJECTS, NO MATTER HOW BIG, FALL AT EXACTLY THE SAME SPEED? WELL, I HAVE A FEELING WE'RE GOING TO BE FALLING A WHILE WITH THESE CARS, AND BECAUSE WE'RE FALLING AT THE SAME SPEED THEY CAN'T HURT US! WE SHOULD BE ABLE TO JUST SORT OF FLOAT OVER TO THEM, AND YOU CAN CUT OUT THE CUSHIONS WITH YOUR SWORD!"

Annabeth expected Percy to at least say "OKAY!" or "LET'S DO IT!", optimistic as he always was, but all he asked was, "WHO'S GALILEO?"

Annabeth sighed angrily and facepalmed herself. Seaweed. Brain.

"NEVER MIND!" she shouted. "LET'S JUST DO IT AND HURRY UP! YOU'VE STILL GOT YOUR SWORD WITH YOU, RIGHT?"

"YEAH," Percy answered, and Annabeth felt him struggle against her hand as he unsheathed Riptide.

Floating though the air was a lot harder than Annabeth had thought. She finally got the hang of it (it was Percy's idea that they should try "swimming" through the air)—though it was a bit of a bother to have to hold Percy's hand and only have the other one to paddle. Luckily Annabeth had taken extra swimming lessons in the Camp Half-Blood canoe lake when she was twelve, so she managed. And _no way in Olympus_ was she letting go of Percy's hand.

They swam through the air until they bumped their heads on the side of a car.

"LET'S CHECK THIS ONE!" Annabeth suggested. "WE'LL WANT SOFT BUT FIRM SEAT CUSHIONS TO CREATE THE MAT!"

"OKAY!" Percy agreed.

They felt their hands up the car door and pushed their arms in through the window (the glass was smashed out) to feel the seats.

"IT'S MADE OF SOFT LEATHER! PERFECT!" Annabeth yelled. "YOU HAVE RIPTIDE?"

"YEAH!" Then Annabeth could swear she heard Percy _gulp_. "UH, ANNABETH? I'LL HAVE TO GET INSIDE THE CAR TO CUT IT OUT . . ."

"OKAY!"

"AND I'LL HAVE TO LET GO OF YOUR HAND . . ."

Now all Annabeth could hear was _her_ gulping in her own ears.

"_NO!"_ she screamed.

"ANNABETH," Percy attempted to calm her down, "IT'LL BE A LOT EASIER, I'M ACTUALLY NOT SURE I EVEN _CAN_ DO IT WHILE HOLDING YOUR HAND, AND I'LL FOR SURE NEED TWO HANDS TO CUT OUT THE SEAT—"

But Annabeth was already hyperventilating.

"PERCY," she whimpered.

"IT'LL BE OKAY, YOU CAN HOLD RIGHT ONTO THIS CAR, AND WHEN I'M DONE I'LL FIND YOU AGAIN—"

"NO," she whimpered. "NO, NO, _NO_."

"ANNABETH—"

"PERCY, I—I DON'T THINK I CAN _PHYSICALLY_ LET GO OF YOU—"

"ANNABETH," Percy said, somehow quiet and reassuring, "IT'S OKAY. I'LL FIND YOU AGAIN. YOU YOURSELF SAID WE HAVE LOTS OF TIME BEFORE WE HIT THE BOTTOM."

Annabeth tried to calm herself by taking deep breaths, trying to dismiss the millions of screaming thoughts in her head: _But what if we can't find each other again in the dark?_ It was illogical. And Annabeth _was_ a practical daughter of Athena.

So, with great difficulty and a lot of deep breaths, Annabeth slowly, painfully, heart-wrenchingly slid her fingers away from Percy's. Afterward her hands flew to her mouth to suppress a sob, and she was sure if the wind hadn't been ripping at her eyes, she would've been crying.

She tried to calm herself, taking deep breaths and pressing her hands to her heart. After a minute, Annabeth called out, "PERCY?"

"I'M HERE!" he answered immediately. "I'VE ALMOST GOT THE SEAT OFF. YOU DOING OKAY?"

"YEAH," she managed. Annabeth supposed she should be helpful and try to find more seats in cars, but she was just too scared to get any farther away from Percy.

A few minutes later, Annabeth heard, "GOT IT!"

"GREAT!" She gave a huge sigh of relief. Annabeth swam her way toward where she'd heard Percy's voice, then felt something bump into her. A hand reached out and brushed her shoulder. "PERCY!" Annabeth cried.

"I'M HERE," he reassured her, and she felt his hand entwine with hers once more. "I'VE GOT THE SEAT! HOW MANY MORE WILL WE NEED FOR THE MAT?"

"I'D SAY FIVE MORE, JUST TO BE SAFE," Annabeth answered. "WE'LL DOUBLE THEM UP AND WRAP THEM AROUND OURSELVES."

"I HOPE THAT'S ENOUGH," Percy said nervously, like he was envisioning their Mat Suppress Landing Project 01 a failure—not that they'd be able to do a project 02 if it _did_ fail. "WHAT'LL WE TIE THEM TOGETHER WITH?"

"SEAT BELTS." Annabeth had some rope in her backpack, but she wasn't sure it was enough to hold their mat together. And right now, they had an endless supply of seat belts in the cars. They'd better work.

They found another car with broken windows, and Percy climbed inside (it was still despairingly painful for Annabeth to let go of him) and cut out the seat with Riptide. He also cut out the seat belts and gave them to Annabeth to tie their two seat cushions together. Soon the mat got so big Annabeth was sure it could have broke a god's fall to Tartarus. Things were looking good, if only Annabeth was able to see them in the darkness.

Annabeth felt Percy bump into her again, and another seat cushion was shoved into her hands. "THAT'S SIX SEATS," Percy said.

Annabeth tied the cushion tightly to the other five seats, all bound together in seat belts, which made it a four-foot thick, six-foot long mat to break their fall.

"DO YOU THINK IT'S GOOD ENOUGH?" Percy asked nervously.

"IT HAS TO BE," Annabeth answered firmly. After a moment of hesitation, she added, "LET'S TEST IT OUT."

Annabeth had tied two long seat belts to the end cushions, and when she and Percy climbed on their mat, she pulled them together and tied the cushions around them.

They were completely encased in car seat cushions. If it was black before, it somehow seemed darker now to Annabeth. It was a bit more difficult to breath, their mat muffling the air, but on the plus side, the cushions had blocked the howling wind somewhat.

Her backpack was squashed against her shoulder. Annabeth shifted a bit. She was very aware of how close Percy was, how she was pressed up against him.

"Well, if this doesn't break our fall, I don't know what will," Percy said. With the howling wind muffled, and his head so close to Annabeth's, he didn't have to yell anymore. "How long do you think we have before we hit the bottom?"

"Well, I'm not exactly sure, but I think we've been falling for a couple hours. So, any minute now," Annabeth answered nervously. Her scared tone alerted her to how terrified she was. Her whole body was tense. Her mouth was so firm she could barely speak.

Apparently, Percy noticed, too.

"Hey, loosen up," he said, and managed wriggle his arm in their tight circumstances around her shoulder.

Percy's hand on her back did help her to relax a bit. Though Annabeth was still extremely terrified, with the thoughts _Any second now, any second we'll hit the bottom_ rushing through her head.

"Percy?" Annabeth asked.

"Hmm?" He began to rub her tight shoulder, which almost made Annabeth moan with pleasure.

"What will we do when we land? How will we make it through Tartarus—"

"I'm not sure," Percy cut in. Annabeth knew he was frowning. "But I know we'll find a way. We're together, so nothing can stop us."

His hand went slack on her back, and Annabeth felt him tense a little. She knew he was pondering her question deeper.

The winds seemed to have died down a little outside. Annabeth swallowed, and kept the thought to herself that that was probably because they were nearing the end of their fall.

"Percy?" she said again. "If this doesn't work, if we're crushed, and die when we hit the bottom—"

"Not happening, Annabeth," Percy interrupted.

She pushed her hand up from in between her side and a cushion and found his mouth and covered it with her fingers.

"_Percy,"_ she said firmly. "You know as well as I do that that there's always the chance—"

"_No_, Annabeth," he interrupted. "We're going to make it through this. The gods wouldn't let this happen if we were going to die. What would Aphrodite do if something happened to her favorite demigod couple?"

"Probably have Apollo write some horrid love tragedy poem about us," Annabeth muttered.

"And why are you being so negative, anyway? This mat we made is terrific! It'll break our fall as sure as you can say 'Tartarus is spooky'—"

"Tartarus is spooky," Annabeth mumbled.

"You see?" Annabeth could hear the smile in Percy's voice. "And if we _don't_ make it, well . . . I'll give you five gold _drachmas_ in Elysium."

"Percy." Annabeth sighed impatiently, and bit back the tears springing to her eyes. "I want to tell you something." She was so frustrated with him interrupting that she hadn't noticed the winds had died completely outside.

"What? That I'm your most wonderful boyfriend and you miss all the little demigod babies we could've had?"

_"Percy!"_ Annabeth slapped him, although her cheeks were red. "Please be serious!"

"I'm listening, Wise Girl."

"If we _don't_ make it, if we really die when we hit the bottom," Annabeth swallowed, "then, well—"

She was interrupted with the sudden force of impact.

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**Writing Percy and Annabeth's conversations in caps lock was SO much fun! :D**


	6. VI Annabeth

**Well, here's the first *glimpse* of Tartarus!**

**Book of the Day – ****_Dragon Slippers_**** by Jessica Day George. Young adult–child fantasy/adventure (so! Cute! Now I'm hooked on J. D. G.…).**

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**VI**

**ANNABETH**

**Annabeth was really ticked off.** First Percy wouldn't quit interrupting her, and now _this_.

The impact was horrible. They'd been falling so fast that when Annabeth hit the bottom the air was completely knocked out of her, and she was sure the mat bounced ten feet in the air again before settling, jittering, on some hard surface.

But it had served its purpose. The mat had kept Annabeth from being smashed against the floor of Tartarus. She was alive—or at least she _thought_ she was. Everything was darker than ever, her bones felt jarred, and she was still struggling to breathe. Maybe she _had_ died, and this was what it was like waking up in the Underworld. Did she have a gold drachma for Charon to row her across the river Styx? she wondered at the back of her groggy brain.

Her head hurt, probably explaining why her brain was feeling slow. She tried to register what was happening around her as she gathered air in her lungs.

Then she felt something warm on her ear. It was warm and feathery feeling. Hot, slow breath. Someone's breathing, quite close to her.

It hit her like a thousand tons of bricks.

_Oh, gods, Percy._

She was sitting up in an instant, pushing the mat off of her. There was no wind outside—in fact, everything was deadly quiet. The quietness felt strange in Annabeth's ears, which were still ringing after the howling winds she'd been falling with for hours.

Annabeth searched for Percy's head in the darkness and found his mouth. She placed her fingers over it. Slow breath was rising up out of it.

"Percy?" she said, trying not to panic. "Percy, wake up!" She shook his arm roughly. He must have got the breath knocked out of him, too, and fallen unconscious.

Annabeth called his name again and again. When, after a minute, he didn't respond, Annabeth banged her fists on his chest and shouted right in his face: "PERSEUS JACKSON! WAKE—UP!"

A groaning sound came from him, and Annabeth felt immense relief when he sat up.

"Do you have to yell so loudly, Wise Girl?"

She laughed and pulled him into a hug.

After about five minutes of pestering him and checking every bone in his body to make sure they weren't broken, Annabeth grew angry. She felt herself frown and her face grew hot. Her dad had always told her it made her eyes look just like Athena's—stormy, and strategizing just the right way to kill you.

"How could you do that to me, Percy?!" Annabeth yelled. She grabbed his shirt and shook him. "I was so worried! I thought you were dead—or had broken something vitally important! What would I do if you'd injured yourself? We've only just arrived! I couldn't possibly _carry_ you all the way out of here . . ."

Letting her anger out felt good, especially in the dark. When Annabeth had finished, she gave a huff and sat back, clutching her trembling knees to her chest.

"I'm sorry, Annabeth," Percy said softly. "But I'm fine. I just got knocked unconscious for a bit. . . ." She felt an arm wrap around her shoulders and pull her close to him.

Annabeth let herself be held. She buried her face in her boyfriend's chest—not Percy, or even Seaweed Brain, at the moment—just her boyfriend—and felt her tremblings begin to subside.

"Now . . . do you have anything to drink?" Percy asked. "I'm really thirsty, after that fall."

"Um . . . yeah. I've got some water bottles in my backpack." Annabeth laughed, feeling a little giddy, and forced herself to sit up. She searched around with her hands until she found her backpack on the mat, in good condition, if a bit squashed. She unzipped it and groped around inside before she found a full water bottle and handed it to Percy.

"Thanks," he said, and Annabeth heard him eagerly unscrew the lid and take a few gulps. "Now, how about something to eat? You must have a granola bar or something in there . . ."

"Better." Annabeth grinned, and for the first time was almost glad for the darkness, for it concealed her surprise. Percy would be so happy when she told him what she'd brought!

"Ta-da!" Annabeth pulled the object out of her backpack and held it up triumphantly.

"Um . . . what is it?" Percy asked, obviously unable to see. Annabeth could just imagined him, in all his Seaweed Brainness, squinting.

"Oh, and I've got this, too!" Annabeth quickly added, bringing out another object from her backpack and flipping the switch. A beam of blinding light illuminated the darkness. Annabeth and Percy both gasped and covered their eyes, and Annabeth dropped the flashlight.

"Whoa, Wise Girl, a little warning next time!" Percy complained.

"Sorry!" Annabeth said, taking her hands off her face. She squinted at the bright beam of light rolling on the floor as the flashlight rolled back and forth. Then Annabeth took a deep breath, afraid of what she might see, and picked up the flashlight, whipping it around to see their surroundings.

Tartarus reminded her of a gigantic cavern she might imagine in a book: huge, black, slimy walls surrounding them, a musty smell to the air, and the continuous sound of _drip_, _drip_, _drip_ nearby. Annabeth shined the flashlight upward to illuminate a humongous, horrible, black hole where the ceiling should have been.

Around them, there were wrecked cars everywhere—some lying by themselves on their sides, roofs caved in, windows smashed out, some heaped together in piles. Annabeth could just make out the curiosity of missing seats inside many of the cars.

Annabeth shined her light all around, taking in every corner of the cavelike room. And in the far left corner of the room . . . Annabeth gasped. There was a pile of something dark and furry that looked horribly familiar.

"Oh, gods," she whispered. "Percy . . . is that . . . ?"

Wordlessly, they stood up and crossed over to it.

It was Arachne, all right—with thick blue blood leaking out of her smashed body and legs, her mouth wide open, showing her gruesome fangs fully, eyes wide, staring upward toward the sky, miles and miles above, and her head bent at a funny angle.

"She must've broken her neck," Annabeth said. It seemed like such a horrible way to die, even for such a horrible monster, that Annabeth felt pity for her. "Do you think it was when she hit the bottom, or . . . ?"

"From the looks of it, when she first fell into the pit—probably on a car or a wall," Percy answered.

Annabeth felt a strong urge suddenly, and couldn't help stepping forward. Solemnly, she leaned down and, with trembling fingers, she passed her hand over Arachne's eyes, closing them. She stepped back, feeling a little better, when suddenly, The Weaver dissolved into dust.

Open-mouthed, Annabeth and Percy watched as the dust was carried away by an unseen wind a few feet in the air, where it hovered for a bit, then disappeared.

"What happened?" Annabeth asked, feeling shocked.

"When you closed her eyes, she died fully, and—well, monsters return to Tartarus when they die, you know that, Annabeth. She's probably in some other part of it, now," Percy guessed.

"Alive again." Annabeth shivered. "I hope we don't run into _her_ again down here." She rubbed her arms, unable to keep from feeling spooked.

There was a short stretch of silence in thought of The Weaver.

"Hey, look," Percy said, pointing. "There's something on the ground, where she was laying . . ."

Annabeth shined her flashlight on the spot where Arachne had turned into dust, and saw what Percy was talking about. She bent down and picked up the object.

"What is it?" Percy asked.

"It . . . seems to be some kind of fang," Annabeth answered slowly. "I think it's a spoil of war." She turned the object over in her hands, inspecting it. It was black and toothlike, as thin as her middle finger, but at least twice as long, and curved toward the edge so that it resembled a talon. If Annabeth hadn't seen this very fang in Arachne's mouth when she was alive, she might have thought it _was_ a talon.

"Wow . . . Jeez, that must feel _so_ nice to be holding. Imagine how many victims she must've injected with that . . ." Percy said teasingly, and poked Annabeth in the back.

"Oh, stop it, Percy," Annabeth said, but she shivered nonetheless, and couldn't put the fang in the back pocket of her jeans fast enough.

"Do you think it does anything?" Percy asked. "The gorgons I killed at Camp Jupiter left two glass vials of gorgons' blood for spoils of war, and one of them gave me back my memory later. What do you think the fang does?"

Annabeth shrugged. "Let's just forget about it for now. There's nothing we can do about it, anyway."

They went to sit back down where Annabeth had stashed her backpack, which Annabeth liked to think of as their official camping spot now.

"So what do you think of Tartarus?" Annabeth asked Percy, settling on the ground and crossing her legs, trying to get her mind off of what had just happened.

She aimed the flashlight beam on him to see his nose scrunch up. "It's kinda small," he said.

Annabeth rolled her eyes. She looked around with her flashlight a bit more. "There's an opening in the wall over there, it probably leads out to the Tartarus Plains. This is some sort of cave, probably created by the pressure of the winds."

Percy frowned. "So should we just sit here discussing how this cave was made, or should we go through that opening?"

"Well, that's the only way out of here, _of course_ we'll go through the opening, Percy," Annabeth answered. She suddenly yawned, and put a hand to her mouth. "But first: I am _so_ dead tired—we should get some rest before we continue on. This is a pretty good camping spot, and I don't know when we'll find another one."

"Yeah." Percy stretched out on his back and put his hands behind his head. "But I'm hungry."

"Oh!" Annabeth smiled to herself. "That was my other surprise, Percy, besides the flashlight. Look!" She held up what she'd brought out of her backpack earlier and set it in her lap.

"Whoa—is that what I think it is? You didn't—" Percy scrambled to sit up, eyes wide. Annabeth was so glad she had a flashlight to see his face, because his expression was priceless.

"Yep." She gave Percy one of the magical Camp Half-Blood plates that Leo had brought on the _Argo II_, which she'd stuffed in her backpack. "You first."

Percy sent her an amazed look, muttering, "You really are a wise girl."

Annabeth grinned as Percy focused on the plate in his hands—and Annabeth marveled for the hundredth time at how _ordinary_ the magical plates from Camp Half-Blood looked—simple, pale-blue dinner plates that could produce any meal.

"I want the biggest burger and fries on Olympus," Annabeth heard Percy mutter under his breath.

A second later, the most humongous cheeseburger Annabeth had ever seen popped up on Percy's plate, followed by a generous side of fries. Percy immediately snatched up his burger and began cramming his mouth.

"Careful, you'll choke," Annabeth warned, but she was one to talk. Too hungry to wait for her turn with the plate, she grabbed a handful of Percy's fries and began shoving them in her mouth.

"Mmff. Thish i' sho goo'!" Percy exclaimed, and soon he had finished off his cheeseburger. Annabeth helped him clear the fries. Their long fall had really left them hungry.

When they were wiping up the grease on the plate with their fingers and licking them, Annabeth laughed. "All right, all right. My turn." She took the sides of the empty plate in her hands and closed her eyes in concentration. She imagined the food, rich and creamy and delicious . . .

_Pop!_ A magical, white, porcelain bowl of creamy onion soup appeared on the plate, a spoon alongside it. Annabeth took a big bite of the hot, white soup, and couldn't help smacking her lips. It was perfect.

"Uh . . . what is that?" Percy asked.

"Onion soup," Annabeth replied, her mouth full. "My stepmom makes it sometimes. I love it."

"Oh. Doesn't it come with crackers or bread or something?" Percy asked, disappointed.

"Nope." Annabeth quickly finished off the large bowl of soup, and when she was done, it magically disappeared, leaving her with the clean, empty, Camp Half-Blood plate in her lap again.

Annabeth took a long drink from a water bottle, the soup leaving her thirsty.

"You didn't happen to bring any of those magical Camp Half-Blood cups, too, did you?" Percy asked hopefully. He shook a water bottle. "These won't last forever."

"No, I was afraid they'd break in my backpack if I hit it on something." Annabeth scrunched up her nose. "If we run out of water, maybe we could conjure up a food with water in it? Cucumbers or watermelon?"

Percy shrugged. "Or maybe there's somewhere to refill our water bottles down here."

"Speaking of down here . . ." Annabeth stretched her arms, yawning. "I think we should stay in this spot until we're rested enough to continue. Sleep a bit. Gather our strength. . . ." She laid her tired head on the ground on her hands, and felt her eyelids falling shut.

She barely heard Percy mutter, "I'll keep first watch," and saw him looking intently toward the opening in the wall at the far end of the cave, watching for anything that might come out of there, before she fell asleep.

• • •

Annabeth dreamed of someplace else in the Underworld.

She was in Hades's palace. It was dark, save for a few torches hung on the walls, illuminating the dim outline of a throne up ahead, above some marble steps.

The place brought back memories. Annabeth recalled the last time she'd been standing in this room. It was with Percy and Grover, when she was twelve. They'd been asking Hades to return Zeus's master bolt to them so the gods wouldn't start a war with each other, only it turned out Hades didn't have the bolt after all.

A man sat on the throne, and even in the dim lighting Annabeth could see it was the lord of the dead.

A figure stood in front of Hades, on one of the bottom steps before the throne. Well, two figures—a boy and a monstrous dog. Annabeth squinted and could make out Nico standing beside Mrs. O'Leary, his hand on the hellhound's back.

Annabeth wondered what Nico was doing visiting Hades—she knew for a fact that he tried not to have much to do with his father. She figured he must have shadow-traveled through the Underworld to the palace, on Mrs. O'Leary. And from how exhausted he looked, Annabeth figured this image couldn't have been long ago—maybe it was the present—if Nico hadn't healed from his imprisonment yet.

"Father." Nico bowed low, and a silver chain on his black leather jacket brushed the floor.

"Nico, what are you doing here?" Hades grumbled. "I'm busy enough having to deal with those fool giants, children of Gaea, coming to blather at my door every hour of the night: 'Oh, please, Lord Hades, have mercy on us! Let us be free from Tartarus and live in the world again so that we may serve our mother, Queen of the Earth!' That Mimas one being particularly annoying. Not that I have anything against Gaea, she's my own mother, may she rest in peace—"

"Um, Gaea's rising, sir," Nico pointed out.

"Well, I know _that_. Why do you think us gods have kept ourselves locked away all these months? Why Zeus _forbade_ us from making contact with our own demigod children? True, a few gods have stepped out to help kill those vile giants of hers, but Zeus has chosen to overlook that. We can have nothing to do with this war against Gaea. She's either a mother or a grandmother to most of us. Do you honestly think we could _fight_ her? But that's not the biggest problem. Zeus is mostly worried that some gods would step over to her side, fight _with_ her, like a few did in the war with Kronos."

Nico gasped. "You mean _that's_ why the gods have kept themselves locked away in Olympus all these months?"

Hades frowned, like he realized he'd just told some secret, vitally important information of the gods' to a small, unimportant son of his. "Yes, but why am I telling you all this, boy? What did you come here for, anyway?"

"It's about Percy and Annabeth."

Hades froze for a second. "Ah, yes, them," he murmured, stroking his chin. "I was told they had fallen into Tartarus—and survived."

"Yes, Father, they did," Nico said softly, and in her dream Annabeth could see the corners of his lips twitch upward in a faint smile, as if to say, _I knew I was right, they're alive! Let's see if the others doubt me now!_

"Hmph. Too bad that smart-aleck Percy Jackson, son of my bother, didn't die on his way down. Although," Hades continued, his face brightening, "there's still hope they might not make it through Tartarus."

"Father!" Nico gasped. "They'll need all the help they can get!"

Hades grunted.

"And that's what I came to you about—to ask you if . . . if it was possible to . . . well, maybe you could . . . um . . . maybe . . ."

"Yes? Spit it out, boy!" Hades demanded angrily, slamming a fist on his throne arm.

Nico jumped. "I-was-wondering-if-you-could-maybe-possibly-let-P ercy-and-Annabeth-into-your-sacred-palace-if-they- maybe-possibly-made-it-through-Tartarus-and-maybe- possibly-lead-them-to-the-Doors-of-Death?" he asked all in a rush.

"WHAT?!" Hades roared. Even though Nico had been mumbling, and talking extraordinarily fast, Hades seemed to have understood him. Annabeth swallowed hard, somewhere in the dream. Maybe Nico hadn't approached the subject in the best way . . .

"You expect _me_, Hades, Lord of the Dead, your own FATHER," Hades began, his voice trembling dangerously, "to house two demigods who had the nerve to fall into _my_ Tartarus in the first place?"

"That horrible hole of darkness is _yours_, Father?" Nico asked in surprise.

"Of course!" Hades answered proudly, obviously missing his son's tone. "The whole Underworld is mine! Why would you think it not?"

"Um, I don't, I know that it's yours, I just, um, didn't really think anyone _owned_ Tartarus—"

"You are starting to sound like that bumbling idiot of an old man who sometimes sends messages to my palace to me," Hades said, narrowing his eyes. His hands tightened on his throne arms. "He always says, 'Oh, no, Hades, Tartarus _can't_ be yours, it must be mine, for—'"

"What old man, Father?" Nico interrupted curiously.

Hades waved a hand. "Just an old fellow in Tartarus, he must be so ancient by now he can hardly remember who he is." He chuckled a bit. "But _I_ certainly know who he is. Why, how could I forget? He's—"

"But, Father, about Percy and Annabeth," Nico reminded him, worried Hades was getting a little too off-topic.

"Ah, yes." Hades sighed. He drummed his fingers on his thrones arms for a bit, and Annabeth felt as though it were her and Percy's drumroll of death. "Very well. I have come to a conclusion," he began. "I will allow Percy and Annabeth to enter my palace—"

Nico practically did a victory dance right there.

"—_if_ they can even make it that far through Tartarus, of course, and after that they must go through the tunnels to the Temple of Adis, where the Doors of Death are located, and see if they can get out with the help of their friends."

"Thank you, Father!" Nico cried. He suddenly asked timidly, "Do you think, perhaps, you could send them some help, something to lead them through Tartarus to your palace? Even Percy and Annabeth, together, would have a difficult time, as they don't know the place even a little bit, like me."

"You speak of your brief time down here," Hades noted.

Nico's head dropped. "Yes, Father."

"And how hard was it for a son of Hades, nobly trying to locate the Doors of Death on his own?" Hades asked, almost mockingly.

"I barely made it out of the Temple of Adis," Nico confessed.

"Then Percy and Annabeth _will_ receive help."

"You'll send one of your guards to them?" Nico asked hopefully, gesturing to the U.S. Marine skeleton soldiers lining the walls around Hades's throne, holding spears at their sides.

"No. My men wouldn't do any better in Tartarus than _you_. The help your friends will receive will come to them on its own accord."

"Surely you don't mean _him_, Father," Nico gasped. "_He_ wouldn't help them."

"And why not?" Hades demanded. "He goes to every demigod ever stupid enough to fall in the pit in the first place."

"But—none of those demigods ever make it out of Tartarus!"

"Well, a few _have_ gotten to the Doors, but they didn't have anyone to help open the Doors on the other side. Percy and Annabeth, as you tell me, have other friends that will meet them there."

"Some say it was _he_ who killed the demigods, just as they reached your palace," Nico argued. "It wouldn't have mattered if they had a thousand friends waiting for them at the Doors."

"Nonsense—" Hades began.

"And what with the war brewing soon, who knows what side _he_—" Nico continued.

"Silence!" Hades banged a fist on his throne arm.

A U.S. Marine soldier standing nearby scratched his chin with boney fingers and muttered something nervously. His voice sounded like clacking teeth.

"No, there's nothing to fear, Julius." Hades reached out a soothing hand and patted the soldier's helmet. "That old man has got to be _insane_ by now, and he isn't something for a god like _me_ to fear—and in my own realm, too!"

The soldier—Julius, apparently (_Like Julius Cesar?_ Annabeth wondered)—chattered something again.

"Yes, I know you skeleton beasts fear him—and _no_, I don't care what he says, Tartarus is in _my_ realm as well as my palace is, and he doesn't own a snitch of it!"

The soldier didn't seem very comforted, but he didn't say any more, and became stiff in position again.

Hades turned back to his son.

"So, Nico, that's your answer." He sighed wearily, and for the first time Annabeth noticed the dark circles under his eyes. "If Percy and Annabeth can make it to my palace—with or without the assistance of _him_, I do not care—they have my consent to enter."

Nico realized this agreement was the best he was going to get. He bowed stiffly. "Yes, Father," he said, and thanked Hades. Then, slowly, he began to back away from the throne with Mrs. O'Leary.

"Oh, you may send that hellhound back here after you've shadow-traveled to your destination," Hades called. "She has no place on that ship with your friends."

Nico gave a short nod without looking back.

"And one more thing." Hades's voice grew dimmer as Nico walked farther away, jumping on Mrs. O'Leary's back and racing for the nearest shadow. "I hope that _Annabeth_ young lady knows a thing or two about the tunnels at the Temple of Adis."

Nico was too far away to hear Hades clearly, and Annabeth's dream-self seemed to be following him, but Annabeth was certain of what she'd heard, and her mind was already racing as everything swirled black.

• • •

"Annabeth."

She felt Percy shake her awake, calling her name, and with a grumble, she sat up, rubbing her eyes.

"What is it, Percy?" she asked, yawning, her voice slurred from sleep. "Are we being attacked?"

"No, you were mumbling in your sleep. Something about 'Hades,' and a temple, and 'Mimas'."

"Oh, yeah." Annabeth smacked her lips and yawned before quickly recounting her dream to Percy. To comfort herself, she took out her flashlight and switched the beam on. The light illuminated Percy's concerned face, his eyebrows scrunched up.

When she had finished, she was wide awake again, and took a drink from their water supply.

Percy was quiet. "Hades mentioned Mimas?" he asked at last.

Annabeth nodded. "He's one of Gaea's horrible children—a giant. Hephaestus or Ares killed him before . . . Or both of them together, I'm not sure . . ."

"Anyway," Percy sighed, "it seems we'll have to make our way to this House of Hades to get to the Doors of Death—"

"Don't forget the creepy-sounding tunnels we'll have to go through before we get to _them_," Annabeth reminded glumly.

"And supposedly _he_ will direct us through Tartarus to Hades's palace, as _he_ goes to every demigod ever stupid enough to fall down the pit in the first place, but supposedly _he_ sometimes kills the demigods just as they reach the palace—"

"They did stress the 'he' a lot," Annabeth admitted.

"So I'm guessing we should leave this cave through that opening, prepare to face whatever might be in Tartarus, and _he_ will show up to guide us . . ."

"Whoever _he_ is . . ." Annabeth finished. She looked down at her lap, and became lost in thought, her gaze settling upon the beam protruding from the flashlight in her hand.

"You'll probably want to save that, Wise Girl," Percy suggested.

"Oh. Yeah." Annabeth blushed and flipped the flashlight off. They became encased in darkness, and she couldn't help shivering, imagining shadowy foes slinking in the room, covered in the blackness.

"Well, there's only one way out of here," Percy said at last, "through that hole in the wall over there. I vote we go with option one."

"Percy, there was only one option to begin with." Annabeth punched his shoulder softly. "Seaweed Brain." She shook her head, then sighed loudly. "I guess that's a way to start," she admitted. "Maybe we'll find a sign or something on the other side, 'House of Hades in 2 Miles Due East'?"

"I wouldn't press our luck _that_ far."

"Yeah," Annabeth agreed. She looked toward Percy in concern. "But what about you? You didn't get to rest. Are you too tired to continue on right now?"

"I'll be all right. Besides, we should get this over with as soon as possible."

"But if we need to battle any monsters—" Annabeth warned.

"If you're asking if I have enough _strength_, Wise Girl—"

"Okay, okay." Annabeth held up her hands in surrender.

But she couldn't help feeling a little worried by Percy's answer, even though she knew they shouldn't put off the inevitable too long.

Well, there wasn't much they could do about it. Annabeth scrambled to her feet in the darkness, and heard Percy do the same. She slung her backpack over her shoulder, and risked a click of her flashlight to pinpoint the hole in the wall at the far end of the room.

Then, clasping hands, that somehow managed to find each other in the dark, she and Percy headed toward it.


	7. VII Jason

**Well, let's see how well Jason and Frank get along together, shall we? And the first look at Clytius and his monster army is in this chapter! Enjoy!**

**Book of the Day – _How to Train Your Dragon_ by Cressida Cowell. Child (I think it's more of a boy's book, though I'm a girl) fantasy/adventure/humor. More of something I read with my little brothers and enjoy it as well, but this whole series is so funny it's worth a read!**

**This chapter is dedicated to Almost Ninja because they replied "YES!" first to my "Who can't WAIT for The House of Hades to come out?" in the last chapter. Also, I want to thank you, personally, for reviewing almost all of my chapters so far. You're so nice!**

* * *

**VII**

**JASON**

**When Frank sang the DuckTales theme song** for the seventy-seventh time in a row, Jason started to get a _little_ annoyed.

"Dude! How can you even do that? That's, like, the seventy-seventh time in a row!" Jason finally burst out.

Frank looked sheepish. "It was my favorite TV show as a kid," he explained.

"Those were still on TV when you were a kid?"

"No, my mom owned the whole series from her childhood, so I watched them on my grandmother's old television set in the living room in my spare time."

Jason nodded, this new information giving him a new respect for Frank. He secretly had a fondness for DuckTales, himself.

But still, even Jason, a DuckTales fan, couldn't take the theme song for the _seventy-seventh time in a row._

Jason turned back around in their floating boat, being careful not to move his legs, to avoid rocking the boat; he knew from experience: Not. A good. Idea.

Thankfully, Frank had quieted down, and was only now humming the DuckTales theme song, so Jason was finally able to concentrate on their surroundings.

The land below them, golden green hills, was so dizzyingly far that Jason was sure if he wasn't a son of Zeus he'd be puking over the edge of the boat right now. Amazingly, Frank seemed to be holding up, too. (Jason blamed the cause on his Ares battle genetics: strong stomach, or whatever.) The hills had small bunches of houses scattered every so often, and huge pastures with cows and horses grazing in them. With the bright blue sky and fluffy white clouds above, and the green hills with animals and houses below, it all reminded Jason of something from a picture book.

"So, um, do you know how to get to Camp Half-Blood?" Frank asked nervously, breaking the silence. "'Cause I sure don't. It's in New York, right?"

"Manhattan," Jason nodded confirmation. "And yeah, I know the way. Coach Hedge also gave me a bunch of maps before we left. . . ." He pulled out one from the front of the boat—it was a large boat, but with the Athena Parthenos tied down in the back, there was hardly any room left for Jason and Frank and their supplies. "There's a route here from Rome, Italy to Manhattan, New York." Jason tapped the colorful marker line Coach Hedge had roughly (but hopefully carefully; Jason and Frank were in too much of a hurry to sail off track due to Hedge's carelessness) drawn on the map. "We have to sail over Monaco and France, across the Labrador Sea, and over Maine to get to New York." Jason frowned. "Do you think we'll make it in time?" It was questionable whether their boat, although quite fast (even faster than the _Argo II_, but then, it was considerably lighter), was quick enough to get them to Camp Half-Blood in time to stop an outright Roman–Greek war.

"I'm not sure. Remember, I've never been to Camp Half-Blood," Frank reminded. He suddenly frowned. "Will we sail in this boat the whole time? It's a bit cramped."

Jason shrugged. "Probably most of the way. If we can hitch a ride on something else, great." He folded the map and put it back on the stack Coach Hedge had bequeathed unto him.

Frank sighed, and settled back, too. "Do you think they miss us?" he asked suddenly. "The girls, I mean."

Jason nodded slowly. "Probably." Thinking about leaving Piper behind almost made his voice crack. "They're girls, after all." He didn't mention that _they_ were _boys_, and they were probably missing the girls even more.

"Yeah. It was hard to leave Hazel behind, especially . . ." Frank's voice trailed off.

"With Leo?" Jason guessed.

Frank nodded. "Yeah, he told me he wasn't trying to move in on my girl, but . . ." He seemed unable to finish the sentence, probably feeling bad, talking about Leo like this behind his back. But Jason understood. How was Frank, the protective boyfriend that he was, supposed to just take a guy's word who looked at Hazel like that?

"I've seen how he looks at her," Jason spoke up. "I understand how you're wary."

Frank sighed. "I told him to look after her, right before we sailed off. Maybe if he thinks more about his responsibility of taking care of her, it'll be fine. Or maybe I'm just imagining things. . . ." He sighed again, heavily.

Jason gave the big guy a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Yeah, maybe Leo just wants a friend," he said, trying to sound real but totally lying through his teeth. _Sure, a pretty girl like Hazel finally paying attention to Leo. Friends. Hmm._ "He's sort of a lonely guy back at Camp—Half-Blood," he quickly added, feeling panic rising in his chest again.

What was the _deal_ with him? Did he really think of Camp Half-Blood as his home now?

"Maybe." Frank sounded doubtful and gloomy. He shoved his hands in his coat pockets and let his head drop to his chest.

Jason shook his head, feeling pity for the poor guy, but also feeling slightly sad for himself. Without Piper by his side, after months and months of being together every day, Jason felt lonely and lost, not quite himself. He decided to mimic Frank, and shoved his hands in his jean pockets.

They sat like that for a while, in silence, until Frank got out a backpack full of provisions, and took out a wrapped PB&J sandwich. He began munching it, and was soon finished. Then he got out another, and ate it as well. He was quickly through six before he even realized it.

"Uh. . . ." Frank looked guiltily inside the backpack, which Jason was sure was a lot less full of sandwiches. "Um, Jason?" He looked up, looking like a little kid caught eating too many cookies. "Is this all the food we have?"

"I think so. The girls packed it," Jason said. "But it's no big deal. We can just pick up some more food."

"Maybe we should do it now. I think I saw some supermarkets below us," Frank said. "I could run in and quickly pick up some food, and we could be on our way again."

Jason felt inclined to peer over the edge of the boat to see if there really were supermarkets below them—he didn't remember spotting any earlier—and gasped, shocked, by what he saw.

Below them, marching up one of the peaceful green hills with grazing cows, horses, and sheep, was a monster army.

At a glance, Jason wouldn't have been able to tell it was more than a large crowd of people, if it weren't for the monster leading it—he were _enormous_.

The leader—Jason was sure he was the leader, by the way he held himself higher than everyone else—was a giant, even bigger than Enceladus, who Jason had fought last winter on Mount Diablo. He was a monster of a man, with long arms and short, stubby legs, horrible, yellow, pointed teeth that came over his bottom lip, and black dreadlocks that stopped short at his shoulders. He also had a bunch of strange necklaces, with colorful beads and stones, tied around his neck. He wore huge, brown, corduroy pants (Jason didn't know where he'd found THAT size—they had to be XXXXXXXXXXL) and a dirty white shirt—it was so dirty now it looked more like a brown–yellow color. His feet were bare and his monstrous, clenched fists swung at his sides as he walked.

The rest of the army was of cyclopes, dracaenas, evil centaurs, etc. Once centaur with ripped arms, wielding a thick, unsheathed blade, trotted up to the giant and asked in a polite, but gruff tone, "Master Clytius, a few of my men were just wondering how long it will take us to reach our destination." His voice was really loud, as most monsters' tended to be, so Jason could hear him from in the boat above fine. "They're growing irritable, you see. And they're also wondering what _exactly_ is in it for them when we reach . . . uh . . . ?"

Clytius spoke even louder, so Jason could hear him a little _too_ well.

"We are headed to the Doors of Death," Clytius answered, in a deep, rumbling voice.

Jason was sure he'd heard this giant's name before, sometime when he was little, back at Camp Jupiter.

"But of course! And, uh, you do know _exactly_ where the Doors are located?" The centaur's tone was doubtful.

"YOU DARE QUESTION MY LEADERSHIP?" Clytius roared.

The centaur took a step back, and Jason could see, even from high in the air, that his hooves were knocking.

"Um . . . beg your pardon, sir, master, your leadership," the centaur mumbled.

"Your worshipfulness?" a dracaena offered, crackling.

This seemed to put Clytius in a slightly better mood.

"Yes, you stupid oaf, I know _exactly_ where we're going," Clytius boomed. Then, almost quicker than Jason's eyes could follow, he whipped out a huge, hairy leg and kicked the center in the chest and the front legs. The centaur let out a huge gasp of pain, then in the next second, he had crumbled into a little pile of dust.

Clytius sneered and kicked at the dust with his foot. "Anyone else who dares to defy me?" he asked.

All the monsters quickly shook their heads in unison.

"Well, to set any lingering doubts in your puny minds at ease, I will tell you my masterful plan." Clytius held a proud hand to his chest. "We will travel to Epirus, Greece, where the Doors of Death are located. It will take a little over a week to reach there." Clytius gave a sly smile. "Of course, I will not tell you fools _exactly_ where the Doors are located. Only I may know that. When we arrive, we will open the Doors for the two, poor, lost demigods, oh, yes." _He's talking about Percy and Annabeth,_ Jason realized, with a growing sense of dread. "And when they see the sun again, after all their imprisonment in the darkness, when they see the blue sky overhead, once again, they will be so grateful they won't realize they're walking straight into a trap." He gave a nasty grin. "They'll walk straight into _us_! Of course, one sad note, _these_ two demigods we will not be allowed to pick apart, limb from limb. _These_ two demigods, our mistress says, are special. We must capture them and take them to our Earth Mother Gaea to be slaughtered, so that she can wake, and we will rule the earth!"

The monsters cheered heartily. Clytius bowed, pleased with their response.

"Of course, I have saved the best part for last. The _best_ part is that the rest of the demigods are coming to save their two friends at the Doors, in a flying ship—and can you guess what will happen when they arrive, shocked, to find that we've gotten there ahead of them?"

The monster army bared their teeth in grins and rubbed their hands together eagerly.

"They'll be so shocked that we can attack them, and _you_—you puny, foolish monsters—can _kill_ them all. _That_ is what _you_ get out of this masterful plan!" He stopped, out of breath from his speech, grinning horribly.

"Um, your worshipfulness?" a smaller cyclopes asked timidly, scratching his head and raising a hand. "What if we don't arrive at the Doors of Death before the demigods on the flying ship?"

This time, however, Clytius did not seem enraged by the defiance. He merely answered, "Why, even better! We can let them free their friends from the Doors, and when they think all is right, when they're all together again, then _we_ will arrive and take them from behind!"

The monsters cheered again, even more wildly.

Jason felt sick to his stomach.

"All right, everyone, toward Greece!" Clytius shouted, pumping a huge fist in the air.

"TOWARD GREECE!" all the monsters shouted together, and then they were off, moving so much quicker than before, filled with a new eagerness, that they crossed the hills in Jason's view in seconds.

It was strangely silent after the monsters had gone.

"Um, wow," Frank muttered to Jason, in a low voice. "Do you think they'll arrive when Clytius said, in a little over a week?"

"By how big they are, they'll get tired fast, and have to keep stopping, so, yeah, I think so," Jason replied. He turned to face Frank. "We should Iris-Message the others and tell them to watch out for a huge monster army on their tail, and to hurry their pace to the Doors of Death. Those monsters _can't_ arrive to greet Percy and Annabeth before us."

"Think we should still get supplies?"

Jason's gaze flicked over the rest of the hills and saw the supermarket buildings Frank had been talking about. He hesitated. "Okay, yeah," he finally relented. "I'm not sure when our next chance to stop at a supermarket will be."

"All right, great! It'll just be a quick trip, not much time wasted. I hope the boat won't be weighed down by all the food I'll get," Frank chatted eagerly. "Oh, by the way, you got any extra cash? All I have is denarri on me."


	8. VIII Jason

**An old character (okay, a god) appears in this chapter. Try to guess who it is before you read it! Enjoy!**

**Book of the Day – _The Mysterious Benedict Society_ by Trenton Lee Stewart. Child (but I can see older kids reading it, too) adventure/science fiction. I loved this whole series so much when I first read it, and still love it. It's an amazing read. I'm serious. Go check it out!**

* * *

**VIII**

**JASON**

**The plan was for Jason to stay** with the Athena Parthenos on their boat, now tied to the ground by a long rope, outside of the supermarket, while Frank ran in and quickly picked up some groceries.

That idea was pretty much trashed when both boys saw the Dairy Queen.

"Oh, man, I _so_ feel like a blizzard right now!" Frank said, practically whimpering.

"Yeah, the sign says they have a large mint brownie special. That is _so_ for me. I love mint brownie!" Jason agreed.

They left the boat and the Athena Parthenos outside of the fast-food restaurant, after Jason cast a quick protection spell over them he had learned from one of Camp Jupiter's Trivia children.

Inside, there was a line, and Jason felt impatient waiting, tapping his foot restlessly on the ground (like most demigods, he had some ADHD in him; most of the time he was able to appear calm, as people expected him to be, as the son of Jupiter, but it slipped through once in a while), but the wait also gave Frank time to choose his blizzard.

"Hmm . . . let's see . . . they've got vanilla and chocolate, strawberry, mint brownie, Oreo cookies, chocolate chip, double fudge cookie dough, banana cream pie . . ."

Jason gave a low laugh. "Dude, what does Hazel like?"

Frank looked startled. "Um, I-I'm not sure. She's never had a Dairy Queen blizzard, as far as I know." His shoulders slumped miserably. Jason felt bad for saying anything. He'd only been trying to help Frank make a decision.

Suddenly Frank brightened. "The Fifth Cohort went out to get ice cream once, and Hazel's flavor was peanut butter. Yeah. I love peanut butter!"

Jason briefly glanced up at the menu and, indeed, saw a "Reese's Peanut Butter Cup" special.

They finally got to the front, and Frank ordered a large peanut butter blizzard. The girl behind the counter was young and bored-looking with a blond ponytail; she kept twirling the ends around her fingers.

"And for you?" The girl turned to Jason, and suddenly her bored expression turned interested, her mouth twisting into a smile, her heavy, black, lined eyelashes blinking at the speed of a hummingbird's wings.

"A large mint brownie special," Jason answered firmly, all business. He knew this girl's type—and he'd also learned how to deal with it over the months, after he'd started dating Piper. He suddenly imagined his girlfriend standing by his side, giving this girl the death glare, and felt a pang in his heart.

"Ooh, mint brownie's my favorite," the girl said, her voice sickly sweet. After another moment of eyelash-batting, she asked, "Will that be all?"

"Yeah, that's fine," Jason quickly replied. He glanced at the name badge pinned on her uniform and squinted to read: _Aubrey._

Aubrey seemed disappointed by his abruptness, but wasn't able to say anything else as she had to wait on another customer behind them.

Jason and Frank stepped to the side and waited as Aubrey got their blizzards.

"Man, you've really got that down," Frank commented in a low voice. "I don't know the first when it comes to dealing with girls."

Jason shrugged. "Piper drilled it into me."

Aubrey brought out their blizzards, almost dropping poor Frank's as she handed it to him and smiled up at Jason at the same time. She tried to casually (not) start a conversation with him, but Jason firmly pushed her away. Finally, he and Frank escaped and got settled at a little table in a corner at the back of the restaurant, scooping their blizzards into their mouths with plastic spoons, at the speed of a flying jet.

"Mmm, this is really good, I think peanut butter might be my new favorite blizzard flavor," Frank commented, his mouth full.

Jason was too busy eating to reply.

When his whole mouth was numb with cold and his full stomach started to ache, Jason finally slowed down and leaned back in his chair for a second.

He took in the Dairy Queen surroundings. Average fast-food restaurant: Full of people eating and talking noisily. One little girl was wailing loudly because her mom wouldn't let her have an ice cream cone until she finished her food.

A young blond dude wearing sunglasses, in the far corner opposite Jason and Frank, sitting at a small table like theirs, really caught Jason's attention. Something about him shouted familiarity.

Jason elbowed Frank. "Hey, you know who that is?"

Frank looked up from trying to scrape the last of his blizzard from his cup and looked where Jason was pointing. He frowned. "Hey . . . now that you mention it, I almost feel like I should know him. . . ."

Jason nodded slowly. He studied the guy a little more closely. He was eating a plate of fries and wearing dark jeans, a casual white T-shirt, and a dark leather jacket. Because he was wearing sunglasses, Jason wasn't sure if he was eighteen or twenty. But he was definitely young.

And yet . . . something ancient seemed to cling to him, though Jason wasn't sure why.

Oh, and he was also talking to himself. Like, there was no cellphone in sight. The guy was speaking out loud to the wall in front of him, complete with hand gestures and face emotions.

Jason almost thought he could hear him saying: ". . . could possibly intervene . . . might save . . . no, too risky . . . have to speak with . . . find out where it is . . ."

Frank was still watching him with Jason, so they both gave a start when he looked up straight at them. Then he grinned, and stood up, coming over to them like he'd spotted a couple of long-lost friends.

"Hey! Frank, right? And the almighty Jason Grace!" The guy cheerfully gave rough slaps to Jason and Frank's shoulders.

"Um . . . who are you?" Frank asked, just as the answer hit Jason.

"Why, Apollo!" the son god answered cheerfully, still grinning, showing perfect, blinding-white teeth. He sat down on the chair next to Frank, across the table from Jason, making Frank scoot over nervously. "Though I'm feeling more Greek at the moment, so make that Apollo." He sniggered. "Romans never did find the time to give me another name. Ah, well." He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "Makes the paperwork all the easier." His eyes suddenly widened as if he'd remembered something or come up with a fantastic idea, and he cleared his throat and . . . recited a haiku:

_"Fries and cold blizzards.  
__I run into demigods.  
__I am the coolest."_

Jason was so shocked and pulverized he almost gagged. He suddenly remembered a couple months ago, when Thalia had visited him at Camp Half-Blood, something she'd said and warned about Apollo's dreadful haikus.

"Um . . . that was lovely." Frank choked, like he was about to lose his whole Reese's Peanut Butter Cup.

"Yes, very nice," Jason said drily. He tried for a smile, but grimaced instead, then gave it up and turned his expression emotionless.

"Oh, that was nothing! I just made that up on the spot! I knew I was improving recently!" Apollo said happily. "Listen, here's another one—"

"Um, Lord Apollo, we'd love to hear it, but with all due respect, we're kind of in a hurry," Frank quickly interrupted, obviously desperate not to listen to another of the god of poetry's haikus.

"But never in too much of a hurry for my poetry, though, right?" Apollo said, grinning, and gave Frank what looked to be a rather painful elbow in the ribs. Then he concentrated on the ceiling above for a minute before clearing his throat again.

_"Rocks crumble around.  
__The strongest gives up his life.  
__The rest are now saved."_

"So, how do you know who we are?" Jason asked, still confused as to why Apollo was in a Dairy Queen in the first place, and how he had recognized them.

"Oh, I know this Frank kid! He's the one who always prayed to me. Thought I was his father," Apollo said, smirking. "Sorry, kid, but you're stuck with old Flame Eyes instead. Too bad, I would've made a much better father."

Frank looked embarrassed and still sort of green from the horrible poetry, probably thinking, _Jeez, this is who I used to hope would claim me?_

"And, of course, I know _you_, Jason Grace, from the stories about your bravery and quests—and also the fact that you were a praetor of Camp Jupiter," Apollo continued.

"Well, this is all very nice, and such a pleasure to meet you, Lord Apollo," Jason said hurriedly, "but as we said, we're kind of in a hurry . . ."

"So you said. Going to try your luck at stopping that war, eh?" Apollo said. "Personally, I don't care either way about what happens, although Ares has already placed bets on whether the Greek or Roman demigods will win. . . ."

Jason blinked.

But of course Apollo would know what they were doing. He was the god of prophecies as well as poetry (however horrible his haikus may be), and could see into the future.

"If that new oracle girl is at Camp Half-Blood when you get there, make sure to say hello from me," Apollo continued conversationally. "She's doing well, last I heard."

"R-Rachel?" Jason stammered.

"Hmm. But don't go yet! I came over to ask a favor," Apollo said hurriedly, as Frank made the effort to stand up. "You see, I was in this place to do it myself, but you two would be perfect for the job!"

"Um, thanks, that's great you think we'd be perfect for the job, but we really didn't plan on sticking around," Frank tried.

"Oh, too bad, I thought you'd _want_ to help—as I was planning to transport you to Camp Half-Blood after you'd finished, as a reward, and all that." He brushed at some imaginary lint on his jacket.

"Wait, you can do that?—uh, transport people places?" Frank gaped.

"Oh, yeah, with all my awesome powers, I can pretty much do anything," Apollo boasted smugly. "I don't use transportation much, though it's very fast, 'cause the last time the poor girl I used it on—"

"Exactly what is this favor you'd like us to do for you, Lord Apollo?" Jason asked, suddenly very interested. This was a great chance to give him and Frank more time at Camp Half-Blood, and more time to catch up with the others at the Doors of Death. If they had to do a little favor for the son god for him to transport them to Camp Half-Blood in a few minutes, when sailing in their boat would take days getting there, Jason was all up for it.

"Oh, just a little task, probably only take you about a half hour. I'll transport you to the place where you'll do it, too, which isn't far from here."

"Cool!" Frank said. Then he glanced sheepishly at Jason. "I mean, we are doing it, right?"

"Yes," Jason said.

Apollo stuck out a carefully manicured but strong-looking hand.

Jason shook it.

"All right!" Apollo flashed that blinding-white smile. "I know you're not going to regret this!"

* * *

**In reply to guest's review: Wow, I feel so bad for you!**

**In reply to 3 LOVE IT 3's review: Thank you! Yes, I am trying very hard not to create stereotypes, and I suddenly realize how hard that is, working with more than seven characters to manage. I feel for Rick Riordan, I do.**


	9. IX Jason

**You know all those awesome mini-quests in the books? There were a lot in _The Mark of Athena_. Well, there's the start of one in this chapter… Let me know if you liked it…**

**Book of the Day – _The Invention of Hugo Cabret_ by Brian Selznick. Child mystery/friendship, but it's not a mystery book. The atmosphere is just really mysterious. This is a _really_ neat book! It's mostly in drawings, and it's got a cool plot. Definitely worth taking a look at!**

* * *

**IX**

**JASON**

**"So, what, exactly, is the favor?"** Frank asked. He slurped his spoon noisily.

Apollo had ordered Jason and Frank another blizzard each, as an extra early payment for them agreeing to complete the favor for him, and they ate while he told them about it.

"Okay, so it's like this," Apollo began. Jason leaned forward eagerly, his stomach pressing against the table, while eating his blizzard. "So, a couple months ago, Hermes decided to play an April Fools trick on me."

Frank raised a hand. "Uh, but it's not April."

"Exactly!" Apollo agreed angrily and irritably. "If it _were_, I might have taken it as a joke!"

"What was the trick?" Jason asked.

"Just a little prank—he asked one of his demigod children—who happily agreed, I might add—to _steal my lyre._"

Frank gasped, and Jason felt shocked, as well.

"You're _lyre?"_ Frank asked. "Like, _the_ lyre of Apollo, your most holy symbol and personal music instrument?"

Apollo nodded grimly. "And the worst part is, I need it for a concert Zeus is holding in Olympus this week! Just yesterday, I realized my lyre was missing, when I searched for it to polish up before the concert. Of course, my first suspect was Hermes, and he admitted he'd taken it. But he told me he'd given it away!"

"To whom, sir?" Jason asked.

"Just some man, a follower of Hermes, who obeyed Hermes's orders and hid it away in his home. The lyre is now stuck in some wretched—probably dirty!—house, while I need it in time to polish for my concert!"

Jason and Frank, wisely, didn't speak for a moment, and let Apollo cool off some. Jason could practically see steam hissing off of his ears.

Apollo took some deep breaths.

"So . . . you want us to . . . go to a man's house? And he has your lyre there?" Jason asked slowly.

"A mansion, to be correct. This man's house is enormous. Not as nice or as big as _my_ summer house on the beach, goodness, now. _My_ mansion has twenty staircases, thirty-two bathrooms, and ten enormous kitchens with enough refrigerators to—"

Frank cleared his throat. "Apollo."

Apollo looked a little irritated at being interrupted on his rant about his summer beach house—_mansion_—but, as Jason and Frank _were_ agreeing to retrieve his lyre . . .

"Right. Search his house for my beloved instrument until you find it—quick, though, because if the owner finds you, it's not going to be pretty. This man is a _big_ follower of Hermes, and would hate to have his duty interrupted by two demigods—"

"You never specified exactly who this man is, Apollo," Frank pointed out.

Apollo waved a hand dismissively. "It doesn't matter. The point is, I'll transport you to his mansion, you get inside, find the lyre, and the favor is complete, so I send you off to Camp Half-Blood, saving you days' worth of travel in that cramped little boat, and I get _my_ beloved instrument back."

"This is only supposed to take a half hour?" Frank asked skeptically.

"Correct."

"Wait, how we will get back here once we get the lyre?" Jason asked. "You're not exactly there to transport us."

Apollo tapped his chin in thought for a moment. "I'll create a spell after I send you off," he decided, "that once one of you picks up the lyre, you'll return. Hecate has been teaching me spells recently. . . ."

"Sounds good." Jason gave a nod of approval at the plan.

"Sure," Frank agreed, but for some reason, he looked a little uneasy.

"Right, then! So, about this transporting business." Apollo clapped his hands and rubbed them together eagerly. "You know, this will also be a good test run for when I transport you to Camp Half-Blood."

He suddenly began to mutter words under his breath, and his eyelids slowly closed.

"Um, sir, should we step outside, or at least sit near each other—" Frank started to ask, but then everything around them changed color.

The table and blizzard cups in front of them, and Apollo, and everything else, turned from red to green to yellow to blue. All the sounds in the restaurant sounded wobbly and tinny, and then they started to fade.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Jason could just make out Apollo saying, as all the colors around them faded to black. "The man has a pet with him! I've heard it can be feisty! Watch out for it at the mansion!"

Then everything went black, and Jason felt air pressing against him as he and Frank transported.

• • •

Color began to slowly fade into Jason's vision again as his and Frank's transportation trip ended, and then they were falling toward the ground, thirty feet below.

Luckily, both boys had been trained for this at Camp Jupiter, dropped by eagles even higher than thirty feet in the air. Just before they hit the ground, they tucked themselves into balls and rolled. Then they were standing on their feet, and Jason felt a little dizzy, turning his head in all directions, trying to take in their surroundings. From the walnut, maple, and pine trees around them, and the dry, sandy ground, they seemed to be somewhere in California.

In front of them was a mansion.

The mansion was, as Apollo had described it, enormous. It probably didn't hold twenty staircases, thirty-two bathrooms, and ten enormous kitchens, though. The walls of the mansion were creamy-yellow, and the roof shingles were a rusty-red color. An even, gray, brick pathway, littered with pine needles, led to a porch deck where Jason spotted a huge front door. Californian bushes lined the path.

Jason and Frank knew their destination, and began to walk down the path toward the porch steps. Jason glanced at Frank, to his left, who had a troubled expression on his face.

"Hey, what's eating you, man?" Jason asked.

Frank took a moment before answering, and spoke in a troubled, uneasy tone to match his expression. "Was it just me, or did Apollo seem to _purposely_ be avoiding saying who the man who owns this mansion is?" Frank asked.

Jason realized he was right—whenever they'd asked who the man was, Apollo had quickly dismissed them with only a few details, or changed the subject.

"You're right," Jason admitted. "But why would he do that?"

Frank spoke in a low voice. "I don't think he's 'just some man' like Apollo said. He's probably dangerous, someone important—or else, why would Hermes give him some of his stolen loot to look after?"

"Well, what do we know about him so far? He's a _big _follower of Hermes—" Jason started.

"He has a pet at his mansion that we should avoid crossing paths with," Frank added.

"'It can be feisty.'" Jason quoted what Apollo had said about the pet.

"Maybe it's a huge dog, or a monster who only follows orders from his master, or—"

Jason and Frank looked at each other.

"We're way over-thinking this, aren't we?" It wasn't really a question the way Frank said it, more like a statement.

"Yep." Jason stared straight ahead. "We just need to go through with this and get it over with so we can be on our way to Camp Half-Blood."

They were almost to the porch. Jason wondered if the door was locked. If it was, he or Frank could try to pick it, or search for another door around the back of the house, or try to go through a window.

The door wasn't locked. Frank proved that when they came to the porch, carefully climbed up the steps, and cautiously walked across the porch to the door, where he turned the doorknob.

As they went into the house, Jason realized a strange fact: The door hadn't squeaked, opening. Most doors' hinges squeaked or groaned, but this one hadn't made a sound; it had been completely and utterly silent. That unnerved him, for some reason.

Inside, a long hallway lay in front of them with a red rug over its dark, polished, wood floor. Jason and Frank walked through it, all their alertness turned on, before they came to a huge, empty room with different corridors and closed doors leading off to unknown places around, a huge, crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and the biggest marble staircase Jason had ever seen straight ahead of them, its steps leading up so high that Jason couldn't even see a glimpse of the floor above. A few tall windows to the sides had dark, drawn curtains over them, but light seeped out around the curtains, so the room was dim and not totally dark. Jason studied one window to the right, ahead of him, and could've sworn he saw a shadow slither behind its curtain. He blinked his eyes and didn't see anything anymore, so he assumed he'd just imagined it, and decided not to bother Frank by telling him.

"Um, where should we start?" Frank asked, whispering.

"Upstairs?" Jason suggested, also speaking in a hushed voice.

"For some reason, I have a really bad feeling about up those stairs," Frank said.

"Then Apollo's lyre is definitely be up there."

Both of the boys headed to the bottom marble step, and Jason saw that the steps grew smaller as they they went up. Jason quickly climbed them about halfway before Frank complained, nervously, "Couldn't we have just seen where one of those doors went?"

Jason didn't answer.

Upstairs was nearly as empty as downstairs, with the exception of a few white embroidered sofas and iron settees leaning against the walls. The room was a bit smaller than the previous one, but it had the same chandelier overhead. The one window in the room, ahead of Jason and Frank, had thick, red curtains drawn over it. But a crack in the middle let out just enough light for Jason to see, if he squinted. There were three doors in the room, two on the wall to the left, and one on the wall to the right.

"Which door?" Jason asked. He wanted Frank's opinion, but he already had a feeling they should go into—

"The right one," Frank answered.

They started forward, and Frank tripped on the red rug underneath their feet, which, strangely, was the same one from downstairs, that had started when they walked through the front door. It seemed to cover all the floors in the house, and it led under the door Jason and Frank were heading for.

"I'm all right," Frank said quickly, standing up and brushing himself off. He glared down at the now-wrinkled rug. "That was strange. . . ."

"Yeah, how did you foot get caught under it, anyway?" Jason asked, puzzled.

Frank shrugged, and he followed Jason as he stepped forward and turned the handle of the door in front of them.

It was locked.

"Guess we can try the other two." It was Jason's turn to shrug.

Frank shook his head vigorously. "No, I really feel that _this_ is the door we should go in. Hmm. I think I can open it. . . ." As he stepped past Jason, he morphed into a huge, black grizzly bear, his head brushing the ceiling, and slammed the door with a giant, furry paw.

Jason was never going to get used to that. He'd about had a heart attack when he saw Frank turned into a dragon for the first time.

The door busted in the middle, showering Jason's sneakers with splinters.

Frank turned back into a human and, smiling a little smugly, brushed his hands off.

"Someone will have heard that," Jason warned.

"Oh. Right." Frank's cheeks reddened a little. "Then we'll need to move fast."

They both quickly squeezed their way through the opening in the door, getting wood splinters all over their clothes, and stepped into . . . a bathroom.

"Um. . . ." Frank's face was so bright, lobster-red that Jason was afraid he'd turn _into_ a lobster at any moment.

"Hey, look, there's a door," Jason said quickly, pointing to a door on the other side of the bathroom.

Frank, relieved, followed Jason as they hurried passed the toilet and sink and opened the door.

The boys stepped into a library.

It was a simple room, much smaller than the others they'd seen in the house so far (excluding the bathroom), full of shelves, floor to ceiling, stacked with books. A desk and chair sat in the middle of the room.

"I guess it's as good a place as any to hide a lyre," Jason said, trying to make Frank feel better about his lousy room-guessing at trying to find the lyre. "Might as well search it."

"Yeah," Frank responded, sounding half-hearted, rubbing his arm. He turned to look at Jason, wearing a quirked expression. "Is it just me, or were you expecting a bedroom through that door in the bathroom?"

"Yeah," Jason agreed, feeling spooked, not for the first time, about the house. "Who puts bathrooms next to libraries?"

"This house is weird," Frank stated.

Jason couldn't agree more.

Jason went to the desk and chair and searched them thoroughly, while Frank turned into a butterfly and fluttered behind all the books on the bookshelves, making sure the lyre wasn't hid behind any of them. When they finished searching the entire library, unsuccessful, the boys moved into the next room through another door in the library.

Frank stepped through first, so Jason could only see a little of the parlor over his head as he came in.

"Whoa!" Frank suddenly cried. "Did you see that?"

"What?" Jason asked, coming around to Frank's right side, taking in the parlor surroundings.

It looked like any old-fashioned kind of parlor that a grandmother might make you sit in to take tea with her. There were a couple white embroidered sofas opposite each other, across a miniature table in the center of the room, some cabinets on and along the walls, another door across the room, and a few small tables with brass handle knobs and dusty, antique-looking items sitting on top of them: brass candle holders holding unused, unlit candles, lace doilies, a few thin, old books.

"By the door, that cabinet on the left—I'm sure I saw something disappear behind it just as I came into the room," Frank said, pointing.

"What did it look like?" Jason asked uneasily. He'd been surprised that they hadn't seen anyone in the house so far, so now that Frank claimed he thought he'd seen something, Jason wasn't exactly shocked—and he wondered if the shadow he'd seen downstairs disappear behind the curtain had just been his imagination after all. There were a million windows in the house facing the pathway out front; Jason and Frank had to have been seen coming in; Jason also couldn't get away from the feeling that they were being watched.

"I didn't quite catch that—I think it was green," Frank answered.

Jason's eyebrows rose. Apollo hadn't said who owned this house—but someone _green?_ He'd been hoping for at least a human.

"Well, it must have just been your imagination, Frank," Jason said loudly. "Let's search over here for the lyre." Then he mouthed, _We need to check it out._

Frank gave a quick, scared nod in reply.

Jason made some noise opening drawers in a cabinet, first, then slowly, he and Frank headed toward the cabinet Frank claimed he'd seen the thing disappear behind.

When they reached it, Jason felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Slowly, slipping a hand inside his pocket, he hefted his gold coin there. He turned to Frank and gave him a quick nod.

As the two boys leaped around the side of the cabinet, silently, Jason took out his coin and threw it in the air. He caught a gold sword that weighed in his hand perfectly a fraction of a moment later. To his right, Frank wielded a spear of his own, a determined expression on his face.

There was nothing behind the cabinet.

Jason and Frank exchanged puzzled looks before dragging the cabinet out to the middle of the room, and searching through its drawers.

"That's . . . weird," Jason said, scratching his head. He looked at Frank. "You're sure you saw something—"

"Oh, come on, man, I'm not crazy—"

"—disappear behind _this_ cabinet?"

Frank was silent.

"I'm . . . pretty sure. Yeah. It was that one," he finally said.

"Well, it must _really_ be able to disappear, whatever it is, because it's gone now," Jason said, shrugging. He looked around the parlor. "Anyway, we should search this room, too."

"Why do I have a feeling we're getting even _farther_ from the lyre?" Frank muttered. He suddenly moaned. "Apollo said this would only take a half hour! Did you see how _huge_ this house is?"

"I almost _want_ to meet the owner," Jason admitted. "Maybe he's not as bad as Apollo said, and he'll just give us the lyre." He sighed defeatedly.

"When we find the stupid instrument—"

"Hey," Jason warned.

"—Apollo better keep up his end of the deal," Frank grumbled.

"I'm sure he will," Jason said. "Gods are usually pretty good about that—well, the Roman ones, anyway. I'm not so sure about the Greeks. And Apollo said he was feeling more Greek at the moment, so . . ." He let the sentence trail off, and the boys began to search the parlor.

They came up as empty as before, so they went out of a door and found themselves in a long, carpeted hall with closed doors on either side of it, and a small staircase that looked like it was a back way, ahead of them.

"Let's go down the stairs," Frank suggested tiredly. "I have a feeling the lyre isn't up here."

"Okay, let's follow your instincts, we know how good those are and where they lead us." Jason started for the stairs. He didn't tell Frank that he secretly didn't think the lyre was upstairs, either.

Frank blushed, thinking of the bathroom he'd led them into, but didn't comment, and followed Jason.

The boys tried to be quiet, but the wood stairs were old and creaky, so they made a lot of noise going down. Also, the red rug had stopped at the top of the staircase, so their footsteps weren't muffled as they were before.

When they reached the bottom, they found themselves in the back of the house, with a kitchen and pantry to the left and another hall straight ahead.

"Let's look for an office," Jason suggested while he eyed the kitchen doubtfully. "That would be a good place to hide a lyre."

"But obvious," Frank added.

"Well, we've looked in _un_obvious places so far, and come up empty. So maybe we need to change our direction," Jason replied.

They walked down the hall, peeking in rooms, most of which turned out to be bedrooms and parlors, not finding an office.

"This reminds me of playing hide-and-seek with my sister, Thalia, when I was a little boy," Jason commented, pulling back a curtain on the wall to make sure there were no hidden doors behind it.

"I heard you'd lost your memory. Did you regain it all, then, if you remember your sister?" Frank asked, sounding half-interested.

"Yep," Jason answered, nodding. "Including a few rare memories of when I was two, of my mom and Thalia—mostly Thalia—at my mom's house, where I lived before Hera sent me to Camp Jupiter."

"That's great," Frank said glumly.

Jason remembered that he'd heard Frank's mom had died. Frank was probably wishing he could forget a few things, himself. But Jason wasn't sure what to say about that, so he kept silent, and they continued searching on.

When they were at the end of the hall, with only three doors left, Jason started to panic, thinking they could be searching the house for days. He peeked inside one door just as Frank finished closing his second.

"More bedrooms," Frank announced. "You find anything?"

"Yeah," Jason breathed, staring into a vast, empty office.

Frank came over and started over his shoulder into the room. Jason could almost feel him growing excited.

"This is great!" Frank exclaimed. He stepped into the room, and Jason joined him, both of them beginning a much more hopeful search for the lyre.

Jason plowed through all of the unlocked office cabinet drawers while Frank tried to open a safe. A few minutes later, the boys, unsuccessful but still excited, searched a large wood desk near the back wall of the office. Frank tried to open a larger, top drawer of the desk, but it was locked. He took out his spear and held it awkwardly as he used the point to try to pick the lock.

"Hold on, almost got it," he muttered through gritted teeth.

Jason watched, holding his breath, until the lock sprang open. Then he helped Frank pull out the drawer, which was surprisingly very heavy.

The boys heaved, and the first crack of the drawer opened, and Jason spotted a glint of something gold lying in the drawer. Jason pointed at the bright yellow, and he and Frank, filled with excited, renewed energy, pulled harder at the drawer until it finally slid out into Jason's lap.

A dusty, gold lyre with silver strings lay inside.

Frank gave a whoop, and Jason grinned as he tugged out the heavy, snug-fitting instrument from the drawer.

The boys stood, silent, in the still room, their excitement suddenly turned to dread. Frank timidly touched the lyre with two fingers. "Apollo said he'd create a spell to summon us back once one of us picked up the lyre, didn't he?" Frank asked, sounding unsure and frowning.

"He said Hecate had been teaching him spells—_recently_," Jason reminded. "Maybe he's just not too good at them, yet, and we need to wait a little while." He shifted on his feet impatiently.

Frank looked from his right to left, nerves obviously on end. "Was it just me—"

"—or was that _way_ too easy?" Jason finished, nodding grimly. "I have a horrible feeling that something from Hades is about to break loose."

Jason's confirmation to Frank's idea that their finding the lyre and all they had to do now was wait for Apollo to summon them back was too easy seemed to make Frank even more nervous. His face blanched a little.

Frank licked his lips and Jason saw his throat bob as he gulped. "Uh . . ."

Then Jason looked down, and saw every blond hair on his arm prickled up. Something wasn't right . . . He could sense it . . .

He whirled around just as the truth hit him.

He'd been so excited to search for the lyre that he had left the door to the office wide open.

There, standing in the doorframe, was a huge man with only one eye.

* * *

**In reply to ****dude****'s review: Yes! I always feel like it doesn't get as near enough popularity as it should. I know, right? That was such a great part! I personally think my favorite chapter is "The Mouse in the Culvert." Kate's so awesome. :)**

**In reply to ****TheSevenAgency****'s review: Great! I'm a die-hard Lazel shipper myself. :) (They are. So. _Cute_ together!) I'm not sure why other fanfiction authors are so quick to dismiss them. I mean, am I imagining things? Because I'm pretty sure there was something happening between them in _The Mark of Athena_…**** The ****_least_**** there's going to be is some tension between them in _The House of Hades_. Thank you so much, a Hazel chapter is coming up right after one more Jason one!**


	10. X Jason

**The conclusion to Jason and Frank's mini-quest is in this chapter! Do you think they'll escape the mansion with the lyre?**

**Book of the Day – _Delirium_ by Lauren Oliver. Young adult dystopian/romance. This is really amazing material! Go read it! (I recommend it to teen girls, though guys could read it too.) It's the first book in the Delirium Trilogy.**

* * *

**X**

**JASON**

**Jason's first thought was, _Cyclops!_** But this man was different from the rough beasts he'd encountered before. Instead of being made of all bulk and meaty muscle, this man's muscular arms were sleek and almost graceful-looking. He certainly wasn't as tall as cyclopes, either, though he was a good foot taller than Jason and Frank. And his eye was different. It was smaller, looked more like a human eye than cyclopes' big, round eyes. He had messy brown hair that stuck out past his ears, and his one eye was a glittering, almost evil-looking green. His mouth was set in a firm line and he had the faint shadow of a beard on his chin and cheeks. He was wearing a T-shirt and farmer's overalls, the knees of his pants brushed with dirt, as though he'd been out weeding in the garden. Jason decided he looked about thirty, but he the lines of an old man around his eye and the rest of his face.

Meanwhile, Frank looked like a little kid at school who'd just gotten caught stealing from the vending machine, his mouth wide open and eyes big with sock.

"You're—you're—" Frank stammered.

Jason took this as his cue to step in. "Are you the owner of this house?" he asked politely, thinking a friendly start was always good. No need to get violent until later, though his hand was already ready at his pocket.

The man didn't answer, but his arm jerked just the tiniest bit by his side, and the strangest creature Jason had ever seen (and that was saying a lot; just living at Camp Jupiter, let alone on the quests he'd lead, he'd seen plenty strange) stepped into the doorway, by his side.

For starters, it was partly green, and Jason wasn't surprised (it was obviously the creature he and Frank had seen glimpses of, watching them in the house). The creature was also red, blue, and yellow, but that wasn't the strange part. Nearly up to his master's shoulder in height, the creature's clawed rooster feet protruded from the rear end of a rooster, with a tail, and yellow rooster's wings at its sides. The front part the creature was a multicolored horse, its eyes an angry red, steam puffing from its nostrils.

"What . . . is that?" Frank, always one for sensitivity, asked.

"A hippalektryon," the man grunted, surprising both Jason and Frank for speaking for the first time, in a deep and almost unrecognizable voice, due to a thick accent that Jason couldn't trace.

"Hippo . . ." Frank failed to repeat.

"He is my bodyguard and pet, better known as Steve," the man continued. Then, very casually, he drew a sharp, gold, Roman-looking sword, that resembled Jason's own, from a hidden belt in his overalls and hefted it in his hand. Jason couldn't help noticing he was left-handed. If it came to a fight, it would be harder for both Jason and the man, fighting opposite-handed foes.

"Steve?" Frank squeaked, staring in horror at the sword the man wielded.

The man grunted something that might have been a "Yes."

"My name is Denes. I am of the Arimospi tribe—"

"The tribe of one-eyed men," Jason interrupted, thinking, _That explains the accent._

"Hmm. Yes," Denes grunted, his eye narrowing as if Jason were some creep who'd stalked him and his tribe over Facebook. "But I left my tribe in the Ural Mountains some time ago, and became a follower of Hermes."

"So you _are_ the owner of this house," Frank accused, jabbing a finger in the air toward him.

"I prefer to think of it as my mansion," Denes replied, pressing his lips together in a hard line.

He turned to Jason and waved an arm at Jason's hand hanging by his side, holding the lyre. "What are you doing with that?"

Jason was so startled he took a fumbling stepped backward and bumped into a small office table, and dropped the lyre on top of it.

"It's—it's not yours," Frank bravely spoke up. "We know it belongs to Lord Apollo, and we've come to retrieve it for him."

"Demigods, eh?" Denes grunted in a musing tone. Jason guessed grunting was about the only way to get communication through for him. "I normally respect the children of the gods . . ."

Frank got a hopeful look in his eye.

". . . but I can't let you take that instrument. Hermes himself placed the lyre into my particular hands. He said to take special care of it—and not to give it to anyone, or at least without a fight. Well, I am up for a fight, demigods."

With those words, Denes raised his sword.

The manner of his movement almost seemed casual—but Jason knew his muscular body was tense, ready to take on anything. Jason didn't like the odds of fighting him—plus his hippalektryon, who'd been standing quietly at his master's side the whole time Denes had been talking.

But Jason also had Frank, and he could use the advantage of Frank's morphing powers as a surprise if he needed to; he didn't think Denes knew about them.

Jason glanced at Frank and nodded, signaling that he would fight Denes, and Frank could do his best to take on the hippalektryon. Then he drew out his coin from his pocket and flipped it, loving the feel of his gold sword in his hand again—particularly at this moment, when he needed it—when he caught it.

Jason and Denes began to circle each other.

"So, demigod, it's a one-on-one, then?" Denes said, snarling menacingly. Jason was surprised and taken aback. So far, Denes hadn't shown any emotional signs. But now he looked ferocious and excited about their fight.

Jason didn't reply to Denes's comment.

"What is your friend's part in this?" Denes asked as they continued circling each other.

"Frank doesn't like battles," Jason answered, throwing a feint hit at Denes to test how good he was in swordplay. The Arimospi, obviously an expert, ducked and resumed his stance again in seconds, giving Jason barely enough time to pull back his sword.

"Funny, he looks to have some war blood in him," Denes said.

Jason risked a glance at Frank. He was facing off the hippalektryon, Steve, who had advanced upon him as soon as he realized his master was occupied. Steve still resumed his bodyguard duty, though, watching Denes out of the corner of his eye. The creature had Frank backed up against a wall, looking terrified but wielding his spear. Jason figured he was holding out at the moment.

He turned his attention back to Denes just in time for the man to strike at his left thigh, one of Jason's weak spots. He wondered if Denes had somehow known that, or if he was just a very good swordsman thus a very good guesser.

Jason swung his sword in a long arc and came under Denes's, just stopping it from hitting his leg; their swords clashed together so forcefully Jason knew Denes could have taken his whole leg off if he'd hit his intended mark.

Denes's one eyebrow raised just a tiny bit. "So, demigod, you have been holding out on me," he said in an amused, impressed sort of tone.

Jason only grunted in response, pressing hard against Denes's blade, trying to push him back.

"Where did you train to get that kind of swordplay?" Denes asked curiously, holing Jason in place. Jason could just barely hold his own against the man, and in this position he could tell that Denes was definitely stronger than him. "You _must_ be a son to a god of high rank," Denes guessed.

"Who said it was a god?" Jason grunted out, trying not to let the Arimospi know anything about him for fear he would discover his weaknesses.

Denes looked surprised. "Your immortal parent is female? That, somehow, does not seem to fit. It must be Athena, the goddess of war strategies—though you do not seem to have her wiser side, or else you would not be in this position now."

"It's not Athena." Jason though it was a good idea to keep Denes guessing. He noticed the Arimospi had slacked a little while talking, and Jason took this opportunity to drive his hardest blow at him, and as Denes stumbled the tiniest bit, Jason jumped back, safely out of reach.

Denes appeared mildly impressed. "Perhaps Aphrodite?" he continued to guess, this time mockingly, smirking. "You do have the pretty face for it."

_"No!"_ Jason gasped, thinking of Piper and feeling disgusted.

Denes's eye flickered upward as he thought for a moment. "You say it is a goddess?"

"I said no such thing."

Denes began to lazily circle Jason, swinging his sword casually at his side. Jason had suspected that he was using the whole guessing game to try to distract him, the same purpose Jason had created the game for, to try to distract Denes, and now he felt certain. He wasn't sure if Denes knew he knew it, though.

Meanwhile, Frank was battling Denes's pet hippalektryon. He slashed at it with his spear. The creature reared back on his skinny rooster feet—how he held himself up with those, Jason didn't know—and let out a horrible, half-rooster, half-horse cockle doodle doo–neigh.

Jason followed the Arimospi's lead and tried to look casual himself, not doing something as foolish as swinging his sword, but relaxing his tight muscles and face expression. He wasn't surprised when Denes leaped at him, smoothly and silently, aiming a blow at his head. Jason whipped his sword up and he and Denes clashed blades quickly, numerously, until Jason finally hit a blow with all his strength and knocked the Arimospi back so hard he had the decency to look surprised.

"You have been hiding your skills from me," Denes mused, in an almost complaining tone, like he was Jason's best friend and Jason had forgot to invite him to his birthday party.

"Still haven't guessed my parent," Jason reminded him.

Denes gave a twisted smile. "I think I am getting closer, though. This is what I think: I think your immortal parent is a _god_—a male, not some lowly female goddess, am I right?"

When Jason didn't answer, Denes gave an impatient growl and repeated, "Am I right?"

Jason chose to remain silent, and wondered if Denes actually _was_ playing his game, after all. He glanced over to check on Frank, and saw that the son of Mars had turned himself into a small, orange crab, and was snapping at the hippalektryon's rooster claws while the creature shrieked. Jason almost smiled at the scene—then the hippalektryon darted his head forward and bit Frank through his shirt on the shoulder with his big horse teeth. Frank gave a strangled cry as blood trickled down his arm and fingertips.

Jason was filled with fury at the creature who had hurt his friend, and was debating about whether to go help him, when he realized his mistake of letting his attention wander as Denes leaped at him and nearly took his left arm off, which Jason just barely managed pull toward him. He had forgotten that Denes was left-handed, and Jason's left arm, without a weapon, had been on the Arimospi's good side. He and Denes clashed swords again, and Jason was almost getting used to the steel of the Arimospi's blade scraping his. Then Jason pushed Denes off of him, as hard as he could, and when the one-eyed man stumbled back a few steps, Jason summoned a small lightning bolt, being careful not to make it too large so his strength wouldn't be sapped, and zapped Denes's body with it.

After the white light of the bolt had disappeared, and the smoke had cleared, and Jason's ears had finally stopped ringing, he was able to make out a very charred Denes, hair and clothes black, lying on his back on the floor.

The Arimospi coughed into a fist as Jason approached him to disarm him, not in any particular hurry, and croaked, "Well done. . . ."

Then Denes was somehow back on his feet and slamming Jason to the ground before Jason could say "Holy Jupiter!" Apparently the Arimospi hadn't been showing his full powers yet, either, if a lightning bolt, however small, hadn't phased him.

Denes had one foot firmly pressing against Jason's chest, keeping him sprawled on the ground, his sword raised in the air, aimed at Jason's heart. The Arimospi grinned wickedly.

"This is what happens . . . son of _Zeus_, I think—when you come between a follower of Hermes and his duty." Denes raised his sword a bit higher, preparing to drive it into Jason's chest.

Jason's eyes flitted to a small movement behind Denes. He almost smiled to himself at the sight.

"And I always thought Mercury was such a nice guy," Jason whined, trying to put on a pouting face. "But it he has followers like this, then . . ."

Confusion flickered in the Arimospi's eye for a moment. "Mercury? Who is that?" he asked.

Then Frank slammed his spear over Denes's head, and the man crumpled, his foot going slack on Jason's chest and he and his sword falling toward the ground, where Jason was laying, so Jason just barely managed to roll out of the way before he sprawled on the ground.

Frank grinned victoriously, his hand holding his spear covered in and dripping blood from the wound the hippalektryon had given him.

Jason glanced over to where he'd last seen Frank and the hippalektryon battling, and there was just a pile of monster dust in place of Denes's strange, pet creature.

Jason turned his gaze back to Denes, who was moaning in his unconsciousness. "By the way, I'm not a son of Zeus," Jason said, and went over to Steve's pile of ash and bent down and picked up the lyre from it, which had somehow fallen from the table Jason had set it on straight into the remains of the monster. A few gray pieces fluttered off of the instrument to the ground. Jason turned his head toward the ceiling and lifted himself into the air, an arm outstretched, fist closed, like Superman, and just before he smashed through the roof of Denes's house, he shouted over his shoulder, "You need to get your Romans straight." He heard a shriek as Frank turned himself into a fruit bat and flew alongside Jason, upward, to freedom. "It's Jupiter."

They broke their way through to outside.

• • •

Jason hoped Denes had seen him all cool-and-confidently fly his way up to the ceiling of his house and smash through the roof, even if he _was_ unconscious, because breaking through glass, wood, and mortar with just his fist and head had _hurt_.

Lucky Frank the Fruit Bat had just flown through the hole Jason had made in the roof behind Jason.

The two boys (one currently a fruit bat) flew around to the back of the house and landed in a small garden of dead roses, grayish-colored and shriveling. Jason thought the roses were worthy to be planted in Denes's backyard.

Almost as soon as he landed, Frank turned back into a human, coughing and spitting onto the ground and raking at his tongue with his fingers. "I had _fur_ in my mouth! _Fur_!" he exclaimed. "It was—oh, ugh, gross!—"

He resumed his spitting.

Jason looked down at the instrument in his hands—his and Frank's completion to this small, sort of quest. Their ticket out of here. Apollo had said once one of them picked up the lyre, they and his instrument would return to him. So . . . why wasn't anything happening?

"Frank," Jason started to ask, "how long would you say it took us to retrieve this thing?" He held up the lyre.

Frank stopped spitting for a moment and wiped his hands on his pants as he squinted at the instrument dangling from Jason's hand. "Um, maybe twenty minutes? It seemed shorter, but then our fights with Denes and Steve were very fast-paced. Hey, did you see me battling that hippalektryon?" he asked brightly. "I was like— And then it was like— And then I swiped at it, and. . . . Wait till Hazel hears!"

"Yeah, well," Jason interrupted Frank's excited rantings, "Apollo thought retrieving his lyre would take a half hour, _thirty_ minutes . . . so maybe _that's_ why he _hasn't brought us back yet."_ He motioned again to the lyre and waved it in the air. "I mean, why hasn't his spell brought us back yet? I'm _holding_ the stupid thing!"

"Dude, you're scared, aren't you?" Frank asked nervously.

"Oh, gods, now I've got _you_ worried, too," Jason sighed. He took deep breaths to push back the panic threatening to burst from him and raked a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I'm a little . . . nervous. I mean, before, I though Apollo just hadn't got the spell together yet . . . Now. . . ." He let his sentence trail off.

Frank sat down on a rock in the garden, tiredly. He studied his arm, wounded from the hippalektryon. The blood on his fingers had started to dry, but some still seeped from his shoulder. Jason thought it was a wonder that he hadn't taken care of it yet, and was about to suggest he do so, when Frank spoke. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see what happens. I mean, we couldn't be stuck here forever, could we? Hey, wait!" Frank jumped wildly to his feet. "What if this whole thing is a trick? What if Apollo wanted to trap us here for some reason?"

Jason shrugged, then placed both of his hands on the son god's instrument and shook it. "All I know is the next time I see that horrible haiku-reciter, I'm going to have some serious talking to—"

He was abruptly jerked on his feet by a strong force, and he looked over and saw that Frank had been, too, as he was just putting his hands on the sides of the rock he sat on to steady himself.

Frank looked up at Jason and started to say something, his eyes wide and hopeful, when both boys were suddenly tumbling through blackness.

Their return trip was here.

A short thought came to Jason: He wondered if they were going to end up back in the Dairy Queen, and if they did, what people would think of them. Someone would surely wonder about the two disappearing and reappearing boys. Hopefully Apollo had thought of that.

• • •

They did end up at the Dairy Queen, but not sitting at their table inside, from where Apollo had transported them. Instead, they were now in a dirty, smelly alley behind the fast food restaurant, the air hot, dumpsters and buzzing flies and a rotting smell surrounding them.

Apollo was sitting delicately on top of a garbage can, which he had covered with a piece of cardboard, his legs crossed, looking at a shiny silver watch on his wrist.

He didn't even look up as Jason and Frank approached him, blinking in the bright sun, their eyes adjusting from their dark transportation trip. He just muttered, "You're late," and hopped down, somehow gracefully, from his perch, a piece of cardboard still stuck to his pants seat. He walked quickly over to Jason and snatched his lyre from him. "I'll take _that_." Apollo immediately began fawning over his instrument, stroking it and rubbing it against his cheek, murmuring reassuring things to it like: "There, there. I'll never let you get stollen again." Then he jerked his head away. "You're all dirty! Just _wait_ until I get home and get all this grime off of you, and get you all polished up!" He seemed to have totally forgotten about Jason and Frank standing awkwardly in front of him, and Jason had to clear his throat to get his attention.

"Lord Apollo? Is that all? I believe our favor is complete, so—"

"Oh, yes, I suppose you'll want your reward," Apollo interrupted irritably. He sent one last loving glance at his lyre before turning back to Jason and Frank, saying, "All right. I'll transport you to Camp Half-Blood. I should warn you, though, the camp is not at its best time, though I'm sure you knew that—"

"We know about the battle, sir," Jason nodded.

"And you know I won't transport you anywhere after you're finished at the camp. You'll have to find your own way to return to your friends at the Doors of Death."

"We know, sir." It was Frank's turn to nod.

Apollo, noticing Frank's wounded arm, gave a gasp and cried, "Dear me! What happened to your arm? I hope that wasn't caused by that nasty follower of Hermes. . . . Here, let me just quickly . . ." He snapped his fingers and the blood on Frank's arm, and his shoulder wound, were suddenly gone. Frank looked incredulous but nodded gratefully at Apollo.

"By the way, Lord Apollo, why didn't you bring us back as soon as we touched the harp, like you said you would?" Jason asked, suddenly remembering his irritation with the god, which he had forgotten on their strange meeting.

Apollo shrugged. "Oh, that. Minor difficulties with the spell. I thought Hecate said potion number _twenty-three_, but it was quite _obviously_ twenty-five. Why?" he asked suddenly. "You didn't get into any trouble or have to go out of your way in anything, did you? Everything went smoothly and according to plan, didn't it?" He looked a bit anxious.

"Oh, yes, sir," Jason answered through gritted teeth, deciding it wasn't worth it to tell him about all the trouble they'd ran into. Now he just wanted to get to get him and Frank to Camp Half-Blood.

Apollo breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, good. You had me worried there for a second."

Frank raised a hand. "Actually—"

Jason kicked him in the shin. "Can we just leave now, sir?" He and Frank were practically bouncing on the balls of their feet in anticipation.

Apollo sighed. "Demigods. I always forget how _impatient_ they are—but then, I suppose, they only live for so long, and us gods have had thousands of years of time on our hands," he added nicely. "But, as you have successfully completed the favor in returning my lyre to me, I will now complete _my_ favor and transport you two to Camp Half-Blood." He closed his eyes and raised his arms dramatically. Jason and Frank just stood there, nothing happening.

Apollo opened one eye. "Hmm. It'll just take a second, I'm sure." He shoved his hands under his arms, waiting.

Jason let out an angry huff. He was starting to suspect the son god wasn't as good at transporting as he'd boasted. He sensed Frank, restless, also, beside him.

"Got it!" Apollo cried suddenly, and his eyes behind his sunglasses began to glow bright orange, creeping Jason out and scaring Frank, who stumbled behind Jason and put his hands on Jason's shoulders as if he were his protection shield.

"It's working! Any second now!" Apollo declared, though Jason didn't sense anything. "Oh, and I can see the future, too! Your visit to Camp Half-Blood will either turn out victorious, or . . . really bad!" He laughed, and it somehow sounded eerie.

"Um, Apollo, are you sure about this?" Frank asked nervously, still clinging to Jason.

"Of course!" he answered, his arms outstretched and his head turned upward as though preparing to receive a gift from the sky. "You'll transport in your boat, which is probably what you'll use to return to your friends after you're finished at the camp, too. Oh, and I took the liberty to refill your supplies."

"Thank you, sir, but nothing seems to be happening—" Jason started—and he knew he'd spoken too soon as he and Frank suddenly went through the same experience of transporting as before, everything around them changing colors, the noise growing small and tinny. Then all color faded to black, and Jason felt himself sitting on something hard as air swirled around him. It only took a minute before the transporting was finished and he was in a different location. He was blinking against the sunlight and scanning his surroundings, trying to place where he was.

Apollo had spoken the truth. He and Frank were back in their boat, Frank sitting in front of him, the Athena Parthenos safely tied down in the back. The small storage space in the front, where they'd kept their supplies before, was now filled with food and bottles of water and juice. Frank noticed the new addition and immediately took advantage of a banana. Jason raised an eyebrow.

"What?" Frank asked, crossing him arms in protest to Jason's look. "Eating helps me calm down."

"What are you nervous about _now_?" Jason sighed.

"That." Frank pointed at the ground ahead of them before peeling his banana and biting into it. Jason sat up on his knees to get a better view of the cause of Frank's nervousness and looked ahead. He thought he might need a banana, himself, suddenly feeling anxious.

They floated above trees and grassy hills, and a large, familiar strawberry field. However, unusually, there were no kids in orange shirts or nymphs picking strawberries at the moment. Jason could see why.

Every orange-shirted person in sight was helping form a line on the boundaries of Camp Half-Blood, engaged in fighting the purple-shirted people clad in gold armor, who were trying to break through their line, opposite them. More people with purple cloaks, waving behind them as they ran, were coming up the hill to join in. Jason and Frank started down at the raging battle around Camp Half-Blood.

"It's crazy how they can get past the borders," Jason murmured, watching a boy in a purple shirt, wielding a sword and shouting a Roman war cry, run through Camp Half-Blood's magical boundary, getting instantly pushed back by a few Greeks. At Frank's confused look, Jason remembered he'd never been to Camp Half-Blood, and explained, "The borders are magic to keep out mortals and monsters."

"Well, the Romans are demigods," Frank reminded him. "It wouldn't make sense for them _not_ to be able to get through the borders—unless there's some kind of anti-Roman magic in the borders."

"Yeah. . . ."

But Frank wasn't really paying attention to his and Jason's conversation, as this was his first time seeing Camp Half-Blood, and he was trying to take it all in, his eyes scanning over everything, from the cabins to the arena to Thalia's pine tree. Jason heard him mutter, "It's so different from Camp Jupiter . . ." and Jason knew what he meant.

"Think you can steer us down?" Jason asked.

"Sure." Frank, in the front of the boat, didn't seem to mind the job of steering it. When they were twenty feet above the ground, a few kids started to spot them, and Jason drew his coin from his pocket, fingering it, after an arrow had whizzed between his and Frank's heads.

"Where do you think we should land?" Frank asked, then answered his own question. "Over there might be an okay— Whoa!" He jumped back, startled, as Jason suddenly jumped over the side of the boat, still hovering at least fifteen feet above the ground, throwing his coin into the air behind him.

Jason landed on the ground and rolled, standing to his feet, then put out his right hand and felt the satisfying weight of his sword land in it. He looked around, the sound of blades clanging in his ears. He'd jumped right into a raging battlefield.

* * *

**In reply to TheSevenAgency's reviews: First off, thank you for your reviews! And THAT'S SO CREEPY! I've never known anyone with my age and birthday! But no, my name's not Hope. :) I'm working on the Hazel chapter now! Hopefully you won't have to wait for it long!**


	11. XI Hazel

**Guess what guys! I got a beta-reader for this story! She's readingqueen811 and she's pretty awesome, and really easy to work with.**

**This chapter is dedicated to TheSevenAgency (Guest, but she just got her own account so she's now luvmonkey1313) because she kept bugging me for the "Hazel chapter." :) I hope you like it!**

**Book of the Day – _Inkheart_ by Cornelia Funke. Young adult–child fantasy, book one in the Inkworld Trilogy. It's pretty long and it gets a little slow in some parts, but the next two books are even better, and I overall love the series!  
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**XI**

**HAZEL**

**It was five hours** after Nico had returned from his shadow-travel (and, sadly, he had to send Mrs. O'Leary back to the Underworld; that dog had really been starting to grow on Hazel), and told everyone what he had accomplished, visiting his father.

That was how Hazel thought of Hades: _Nico's_ father. Her own father had always, only seemed to be Pluto—that was how she'd met him, how she'd always seen him, even though he wasn't particularly the best dad in the world or a father to be proud of. Who was she kidding—he was probably top on the World's Worst Dads list. She knew it was silly, and that a lot of people—including Jason—went by both of their parent's Roman and Greek names, when they had to, but somehow, it seemed so _wrong_, even a little part of her acting Greek, even though she wasn't entirely certain of her relationship with the Romans right now, ever since they'd proclaimed war on Camp Half-Blood.

Hazel was in her bedroom again, laying sprawled out on her bed, worrying about what she and her friends would have to accomplish before they got to the Doors of Death, and when they arrived. She supposed she should ask Coach Hedge or Piper if they needed any help around the _Argo II_, instead of laying around. Last Hazel checked, Piper was in the kitchen making dinner—she said she liked cooking, that it calmed her down and, although she didn't say it, most likely helped her forget her worrying about Jason a bit. Coach Hedge was off somewhere polishing weapons. Hazel wasn't sure about Nico, though she thought her brother was in his room, resting, too. His shadow-travel had really wiped him out. And she hadn't heard from Leo in a few hours, so she wasn't exactly sure where he was, either, though she could make some guesses.

Leo.

Hazel remembered their stupid argument earlier, after they'd defeated the Desmodus draculae bats, and how Coach Hedge had called it a "lovers' quarrel" (Hazel still blushed furiously—from anger, she told herself—at the memory). She supposed she should find Leo and apologize, as she didn't want to be mad at someone on board the same ship as her, with not very much room between them. Maybe she could even offer to help him in the engine room, or with whatever he was doing at the moment, to make up for it. Yes. That seemed like a good plan.

Hazel stood and smoothed the front of her jeans, creased from lying on her bed so long. Her head was a little dizzy and her vision a little blurry from staring overhead at her ceiling for so long. She glanced up and caught sight of herself in the small mirror on top of her dresser on the opposite side of the room. She looked depressed, with purple bags under her eyes, and her curly hair was a mess, strands sticking up and out everywhere.

Hazel sighed. She'd always had trouble with her hair. Some people thought naturally curly hair was pretty, but the truth was it was unruly and hard to manage. Hazel brushed it whenever she had time (which wasn't often, so she decided the best thing was just not to worry about it).

She walked over to the dresser and picked up a hairbrush laying on top, and ran a few quick stroked through her hair, trying to get rid of the frizz on top. The final results were an improvement, and it was about all Hazel had time for, so she sighed again and quickly left her bedroom before she looked too closely at her outfit.

Hazel thought to check for Leo in the engine room, first. But when she passed the kitchen and saw Piper, hovering over two pots on the stove, stirring something in the smaller pot with a wooden spoon that smelled suspiciously, deliciously like spaghetti sauce, Hazel called in, "You know, Leo brought those magic plates from Camp Half-Blood for a reason." Not that Hazel had anything against Piper's cooking. In fact, it was pretty good. But she felt like she needed to let the daughter of Aphrodite know that she didn't need to feel obliged to do anything.

Piper looked up, and Hazel saw a red smear on the sleeve of her elbow-length, light-blue blouse. Yep. Definitely spaghetti sauce. She smiled. "Yes, but as I already explained, I—"

"—enjoy cooking, I know," Hazel finished. She leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms. "Spaghetti?" she said.

"Yep. Can you open a can of black olives from the pantry and put them in this bowl?" Piper asked, gesturing with her elbow to a medium-sized ceramic bowl on the counter.

Hazel went dutifully to the pantry, used to her old habit of immediate obedience, formed after years of being ordered around by her mother (but that was to create a giant—long story). She found the can of olives (there were two) and opened it with a can opener and dumped the olives in the bowl for Piper, who thanked her. Hazel began to head for the doorway to leave the room. She didn't notice she was walking so fast until Piper asked suspiciously, "Where are you going?"

Hazel whirled around. "To see if Leo needs help in the engine room," she answered.

Piper raised her eyebrows. "He's probably doing okay."

"I don't really have anything else to do." Hazel shrugged and tried to look bored. She didn't want Piper to know about her planned apology to Leo.

Piper's eyebrows stayed raised as she lifted a sheet of tinfoil off the larger pot of spaghetti noodles, checking how they were cooking. "Coach Hedge could probably use some help, polishing all those weapons."

Hazel was beginning to feel nervous, and licked her lips. "Why can't I help Leo?" she asked stubbornly.

Piper lifted both hands in surrender and answered, "All I'm saying is, you're younger, Hazel—and a pretty girl, at that—and Leo—"

"—probably needs help in the engine room. I better go," Hazel interrupted quickly, blushing, knowing where this conversation was going, and quickly bolted from the room.

The walk down the deck to the engine room cooled her hot cheeks off, and Hazel shook her head at the daughter of Venus's silly antics. What, exactly, had she been implying about her and Leo?

Hazel blew out her breath in a huff. Whatever it was, it couldn't be worth bothering thinking about. Hazel liked and respected Piper, and considered her a friend, but she _was_ a daughter of Venus—Aphrodite, if you wanted the Greek version, and Piper was Greek—and Hazel had never really liked all that mushy love stuff Venus kids oogled about.

Just then, she came to the engine room door, which was closed. Hazel took a deep breath before putting her hand on the handle and pulling the heavy door open.

There was a narrow, metal staircase in front of her, which led down to the huge engine room. Hazel began to make her way down, calling out, "Leo? Are you down there?"

He didn't answer, and as Hazel came to the bottom of the staircase, she looked around the room, among all the machinery, and realized he wasn't here.

Hazel wrinkled her eyebrows. Where else would he be? Maybe in his room, but she didn't feel comfortable going there in search of him. Hazel leaned against the cold railing of the staircase as she thought. Maybe he was in his office. That was a more likely guess, for though Leo wasn't the office-type person, he'd had to complete duties for the _Argo II_ a lot in there.

So Hazel tramped back up the stairs and paused when she reached the top, glancing back, her hand resting on the doorknob, and took in the wide engine room over the staircase railing, below her. Everything was dirty and oily, the room was stuffy and hot, and somehow . . . cool. That was a word she'd heard Frank use a lot. Everything was so _Leo_. Hazel found herself smiling, then frowned and wondered why she was smiling. She shook her head and went out of the engine room.

Hazel had only seen Leo's office once, and that was just a peek from the outside, when she'd been coming down the deck and had looked in on him and Annabeth poring over some mechanism for the _Argo II_. Now, for some reason, she felt nervous about the thought of entering Leo's office for the first time, though she wasn't sure why, and knew where it was located.

Hazel finally spotted the door to Leo's office and approached it. Noting it was locked, she frowned. That wasn't a good sign.

Hazel raised her small fist and knocked once, then called through the door, "Leo? Are you in there?"

At first she didn't hear anything, then some shuffling noises sounded, then a few squeaks, like someone was standing from a chair, and footsteps as someone came toward the door. Hazel took a step back as the doorknob turned.

The door opened and Hazel was greeted with Leo's curly head in the doorway, and a puzzled expression on his face, but he gestured for her to enter. "Come in," he said, his voice tired as though he'd just been doing something extremely boring and exhausting.

"I was just . . . wondering if I could help with whatever you're doing," Hazel said. Her words came out soft so she cleared her throat a little, and said louder, "I actually though you were in the engine room."

"Trying to escape working with Coach Hedge on his weapon polishing, huh?" Leo asked in his same weary voice—but his words held a playful hint to them now, Hazel noticed. That was good.

Hazel came into the office and took it in. There was a wood table on the wall to the right, with two chairs in front of it (most likely placed there for Leo and Annabeth). Large, complicated-looking maps were spread out on the table, and different papers were tacked all over the walls in the room: blueprints, more maps, complicated rows of letters and numbers like codes on yellow, brittle paper, sketches of Greek monsters, diagrams of the _Argo II_ . . .

"Actually, I wouldn't mind some help," Leo admitted, sitting right down at his desk without offering Hazel a seat first. Hazel's back stiffened a little. If he had been Sammy from the 1940's . . .

Leo seemed to notice her tense look and waved a hand at the chair next to him. "You can sit down . . ."

Hazel took a tentative seat next to Leo, and studied the papers in front of her. She suddenly recognized them as Archimedes's scrolls Leo had taken from the underground room below the Pantheon, which she, Leo, and Frank had found, while searching for Nico. A book was also laying open, titled _On Building Spheres_.

"Oh, that . . . I was just studying them. . . ." Leo sounded embarrassed, probably feeling guilty that he'd been looking at scrolls and books written by his great Greek hero for self-pleasure, when he should be working on getting them to their destination. He hurriedly pushed the the papers aside and closed the book, after marking his place with a piece of scrap paper.

Leo took a deep breath and pushed back his hair, then looked at Hazel, about to say something, when Hazel burst out, "Leo, I don't mind helping you, but the real reason I came in here was to apologize for our stupid fight earlier."

She fingered the hem of her denim jacket nervously.

Leo looked up, his brown eyes wide in surprise. Hazel noticed a lone curl of brown hair had fallen forward, laying irritatingly just over the top of one eye. He definitely needed a haircut. Boys these days seemed to _like_ wearing their hair so long. . . .

"Like I said, it was stupid, and I just don't like staying mad at people . . ." Hazel continued.

Leo crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow, trying to frown over the smile pulling at his lips.

"Okay, at the members on the _Argo II_ especially—at _you_—especially since I can't even get more than a hundred feet away from them— Oh, don't get so full of yourself," Hazel huffed. "I just wanted to explain— Hey, you should apologize, too!" She mimicked Leo, crossing her arms, and stuck her chin up in the air.

Leo tried not to laugh, his nose scrunching up and his eyes squinting so tightly he looked like he'd just come out of a dark move theater into blinding sunlight. Eventually he gave up, and burst out with a short peal of laughter, then sobered up quickly and stood. He cleared his throat before saying, "Very well. Ms. Levesque, I extremely regret my words and manner to you and offer my most sincere apologies. Even though _you_ started it."

"Hey!" Hazel snapped, just as Leo gave a low bow, his arm in front of his waist.

Hazel caught her breath. Leo's little apology speech and bow reminded her exactly of Sammy.

She couldn't take it anymore, and was considering dashing from the room when Leo seemed to realize so, too.

He straightened himself, his eyes growing big. He burst out, "Sorry! I . . . I didn't mean to . . ."

"It's okay," Hazel muttered, looking at the floor, furious at herself when her eyes filled with tears. "You . . . you act like him without even trying. It's easier when you're not joking around, though."

"Sorry," Leo said again, quietly. He took a deep breath and sat back down in his chair. "I know how hard it is for you, after seeing him myself . . ."

He knew that Hazel hadn't gotten over their latest flashback yet. She wasn't sure what to think of Sammy—or even Leo, though she'd never been really sure what she thought of him—anymore, after seeing her old boyfriend as an aged man . . .

Hazel missed Frank. She used to be able to confide these kind of things in him, though their quest had been so busy lately . . .

"Why don't you help me draw a route to the Doors of Death?" Leo suggested, trying to distract Hazel. She was grateful to him for that, and turned to the map Leo had pulled out and spread open on the table in front of them. "So, we're here, in Rome, Italy. . . ." Leo marked a red dot on the spot on the map that Hazel had always thought of as "the boot," from its shape. Hazel picked up a blue marker, determined to be helpful. "And we want to sail to the Doors of Death—"

"In Epirus, Greece," Hazel interrupted, marking a blue dot on the region on the map, quite far from Leo's red dot.

"Yeah." Leo scratched behind his ear. "About that. . . . I don't . . . know the _exact_ location of the Doors of Death . . . and Nico doesn't know . . ."

"Then how will we find them?" Hazel asked, worried.

Leo shrugged and sighed heavily. "I'm sure we'll find out somehow while we sail over there, before we arrive . . . And I have an idea, someone who could tell us where they are, if we have no other option." He studied the map in front of him intensely, but Hazel realized he wasn't even looking at it.

"Leo," Hazel said in firm voice, making him look at her. "You can't ask Nemesis. Her title should be 'the goddess of trickery and evil.' You don't know what will happen if you use that cookie. . . ."

Leo hung his head miserably, as though ashamed, then laughed bitterly. "You know me too well, for someone that hasn't known me long, Hazel." He took a deep breath before blurting out, "I . . . already used the cookie."

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**In reply to TheSevenAgency's review: I hope you had fun on your mission trip and I hope you liked the chapter! Yeah, I think my mom regrets _teaching me to read_ a long time ago. :D**


	12. XII Hazel

**In case you haven't guessed, this is going to be a Lazel story… :) There's also some Tylla in this chapter! *squeal***

**Book of the Day – _The Thief Lord_ by Cornelia Funke . . . yeah, her again. She's a seriously good writer! And she's written lots of books. I almost liked this novel better than _Inkheart_. It's really good, with an awesome twist toward the end! Young adult–child fantasy/adventure.**

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**XII**

**HAZEL**

**Hazel sat still, shocked, for a moment,** before shrieking, "Say _what?"_

"I used it when you and Frank got knocked out by the eidolons in the underground chamber. . . . They were threatening both of you, and I thought I could save you with Archimedes's sphere, but I needed a combination, so I broke it open. . . ." Leo looked up, his eyes rimmed in red, a look of extreme guilt on his face.

Hazel sucked in her breath. "Oh, Leo, you think it was your fault that Percy and Annabeth fell into Tartarus because of your cookie, don't you? I thought it was just the natural guilt that everyone else has been feeling, but you actually think . . ."

"How could it _not_ be my fault?" Leo asked bitterly.

Hazel reached out and took his hands in her face. He could _not_ think it was his fault. She needed to make him understand.

"_Leo_," she said. "How could it have had anything to do with you or the cookie? I bet you a million denarri that it would've happened anyway, if we had never met Nemesis and you had never touched that cookie. You can't believe this. It will just crush you until you won't be any help to us, and we need you—to sail this magnificent ship you built, and to fight at the Doors of Death, when we find the location. And anyway, we _will_ get Percy and Annabeth out of Tartarus, and we'll need your help doing it. You've got to be strong and not blame yourself for what has already happened and can't be helped, and what was _not_ your fault."

She took a deep breath and dropped her hands in her lap, looking away from Leo, who was staring at her, shocked by her words. He quickly recovered.

"I was only thinking about asking Nemesis if she knew the location, as a bonus for using her stupid cookie, or something. I thought she might agree," he finished lamely, shrugging. "I'm just not sure what else to do . . . Maybe I could ask my dad, or one of the other gods. They probably know the location . . ."

"I think they would have told us by now if they were planning on it." Hazel tried to sound comforting. "And anyway, the gods haven't much been talking with their children lately. . . ."

"Has your dad spoken with you?" Leo asked.

"No." Hazel looked at the ground. She didn't say that she felt a bit angry at Pluto for purposely ignoring her. Especially since he'd just willingly talked to Nico—though that was in his Greek form, and Nico had gone visiting _him_. And then there was the small matter of her being dead that had just recently been cleared up that might be affecting things.

Leo nodded in understanding. "I haven't seen my dad in months—and then it wasn't even in person, through a bad video recorder in my dream."

Hazel raised a questioning eyebrow, and Leo quickly said, "Long story—he was talking to me behind Zeus's back."

Hazel nodded and looked back at the map on the table, not feeling like talking anymore. She was glad she'd cleared things up with Leo, though.

Leo turned to the map, too, and together, they decided and drew out which were the best routes to Epirus.

• • •

After leaving dinner with a full stomach, due to Piper's good cooking, Hazel went to her room and took her time getting ready for bed, thinking she wouldn't be able to get to sleep with all the thoughts swarming her head, but as soon as she laid her head on her pillow, she fell into a peaceful slumber.

Until her mind was raided with visions of Camp Half-Blood.

Hazel gasped as she saw it for the first time, and tried to take in the Greek camp, but her dream blurred away from the image of cabins and an arena and a lake, and rested upon a cluster of what looked to be hastily setup tents just inside the border of some woods.

Hazel saw her Roman friends resting up after an obvious battle, mopping sweat-soaked foreheads and bandaging wounds. One larger tent had guards stationed around it, and an spqr banner hanging outside; it appeared to be official, and Hazel saw she'd guessed right when she spotted Reyna sitting inside when the right flap blew back in the wind. The praetor of Rome looked horrible. Her long black hair was in a braid, tangled and knotted; she had cuts on her face and a bruise under her left eye, and her right arm was in a sling. She was sitting on her praetor throne, speaking to a group of soldiers and advisors standing in front of her.

"We already outnumber the Greeks three to one," Hazel could hear her saying, "so when the reinforcements come, we'll land another blow—they won't be able to withstand it." She didn't look either particularly pleased or disgusted by what she'd said, but Hazel felt sick.

"I say we strike now, weaken the filthy _Graecus_ scum even more, while they're still weak from our recent battle," Octavian, sitting in his own throne beside Reyna, eagerly suggested. "Like our wise praetor pronounced, we outnumber them. It would be no trouble—"

"_We_ need to gather our strength, Octavian," Reyna interrupted him, dismissing his suggestion. "The Greeks are stronger than I anticipated. It would be a foul move to strike again so soon."

"But they wouldn't expect it!" Octavian protested, still excited.

Reyna sat silent, in consideration, for a moment.

Hazel clenched her fists and felt sudden, bitter bile fill her mouth. How could _Octavian_ be sitting in the praetor's tent, beside Reyna, on his own throne, as though he were praetor with her? Hazel did notice Reyna giving the Augur of Camp Jupiter withering glances, and from their discussion, she obviously wasn't going to let him lead attacks, though he evidently, desperately wanted to.

"No," Reyna finally decided, firmly. "We wait for the reinforcements, which should arrive in a few days."

Then the tent flap fell back into place, so Hazel could no longer see inside, though she thought she heard more mutterings on different discussions.

Her dream shifted back to the cluster of cabins, and Hazel became excited when she saw one that she guessed was the Hades cabin. It was painted black and decorated with skulls and torches lit with green fire. The idea of siblings living together in one cabin, no matter their amount, seemed so strange to Hazel, but she supposed she was just used to the cohorts in Camp Jupiter.

Near the cabins, Hazel could make out stables and a big, white house, and the lake and arena she'd spotted earlier. Her dream settled upon a certain stable, and Hazel almost gasped when she saw her friend, Ella, a harpy, and Percy's half-brother, Tyson, a Cyclops, sitting on the railing of a Pegasus's stall. Hazel was filled with sudden memories of her, Frank, and Percy rescuing Ella in Portland when they'd visited Phineas for the location of the giant Alcyoneus's whereabouts (long story). She also remembered that Tyson had an obvious crush on Ella, and the harpy had mutual feelings.

"Ella, Tyson is not sure if this is a good idea to come here," Tyson said nervously to the harpy.

Ella scratched at her red feathers with her clawed chicken feet, also nervous. "Nope, nope. Good; no good. Bad. Bad idea. Bad time. Time of war. _War of Ages_—band formed during the summer of 2002 in Erie, Pennsylvania." She let out a squawk, and Tyson laid a big, tentative hand on her back to calm her.

Hazel still couldn't help feeling awed by the harpy's natural, Wikipedia-like personality, how she sprouted tons of facts in between conversation.

"Tyson misses nice doggie. Doggie had to go," Tyson said sadly, thinking of Mrs. O'Leary. Hazel remembered he'd shadow-traveled on her with Ella after their hasty exit from Camp Jupiter.

"Hellhound. Dog—_canem_ in Latin." Ella sighed. "Ella misses dog, too."

"Maybe we should not have come here," Tyson said again. "But Percy told Tyson to go." Tyson sounded almost sad, still stroking Ella's feathers. "Percy said 'Go and take Ella.' Maybe . . . Percy not want Tyson near him? Percy mad at Tyson?"

"No!" Ella shrieked, making Tyson drop his hand. "Percy good! Percy not mad. N-n-no one mad is at Tyson. Tyson good." Then, more quietly, she mumbled, "Ella likes Tyson."

"What?" Tyson cried, practically jumping three feet in the air. His one eyebrow above his warm, brown eye looked shocked. "Ella . . . likes Tyson?"

"Ella likes friends. Percy, Hazel, Frank. _Friends_—an American television sitcom created by David Crane and Marta Kauffman, starring Jennifer Aniston and Courteney Cox. 'Friendship'—a relationship of mutual affection between two or more people. Ella likes friends. And cinnamon. Ella likes to eat cinnamon. And Tyson . . . Ella likes Tyson," Ella repeated shyly, blushing.

Tyson reached over and clumsily took Ella's small harpy claw in his big Cyclops hand. "Tyson likes Ella, too," he told her firmly.

Ella gave another squawk, this time of excitement, and looked down at her hand in Tyson's. She looked back up at the Cyclops, shyly, then leaned forward and planted a kiss on his cheek. Harpy and Cyclops face each turned as red as Ella's feathers.

Now, Hazel was not a Venus kind of girl, who sighed at every sappy romance movie, or squealed when a new couple got together, but even her Pluto-cold heart melted and she felt like "awwing" at the scene.

She watched Tyson and Ella just sit there, both blushing furiously, still holding hands, when everything around her suddenly dissipated, and her restless dream brought her to a new location yet again.


	13. XIII Hazel

**A goddess makes her appearance in this chapter! Guess who? She was in _The Mark of Athena_.**

**Book of the Day – _Divergent_ by Veronica Roth. _Really_ cool, book one in the Divergent Trilogy. Book three comes out this fall! Why do I have to waaaiit? :( Young adult dystopian.**

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**XIII**

**HAZEL**

**"Sweet, aren't they?" a woman,** who was sitting at a vanity table, applying makeup, sighed. She was busy putting on mascara at the moment, coating her eyelashes, already thick with black. "They're one of the top on my 'Cute Couples' list! They're so adorable—especially for monsters! But, of course, I called it from the beginning. . . ."

Hazel squinted as her blurry dream-vision came into focus. She recognized the woman immediately. She had gorgeous 1940's Audrey Hepburn-styled hair, a pearl necklace around her throat, was wearing a pretty, sleeveless wrap dress, and her face . . . her face looked a little bit like Hazel's mother's, Queen Marie. Hazel had also seen the woman only recently.

"Lady Venus?" Hazel said.

The woman stopped applying mascara to gracefully swivel her head around and smile at Hazel, her eyes flashing luminous different colors. "Aphrodite, actually, sweet girl," the goddess of love and beauty gently corrected. At Hazel's puzzled look she quickly added, "I know, it's so confusing, this changing back and forth between Greek and Roman forms. Sometimes _I_ am not even sure who I am at the moment."

Hazel nodded mutely along to the goddess's chatter, entranced by this woman's beauty.

"Surprised to see me, are you, dear?" Aphrodite asked, giggling. "I did so enjoy our last meeting, the tea party in Virginia. I love tea parties! Any parties, actually. And having you sweet bunch of girls there, my daughter included, was so lovely. . . ." She trailed off and gave a sigh at the memory, looking off into the distance, lost in thought for a moment, before turning back to her table and beginning to add blush to her cheeks.

"Thank you, Lady Aphrodite, I enjoyed the tea, too," Hazel said politely. "But can you please tell me why you are here?"

"Here in your dream, you mean?" Aphrodite asked. She finished blushing her cheeks, reached for a lipstick tube, and began to open it. "I had wanted to speak privately with you for a while now, darling, and thought that this was finally an opening."

Hazel was transfixed by the goddess's ever-changing appearance, and had barely been following the conversation, but now she immediately became alert and gulped. The goddess of love wanted to speak with her _privately_? This could not be good. She'd heard stories about these kind of meetings at Camp Jupiter: Girls returning from meetings with Lady Venus under heavy love spells and having to pay a large price for it later; girls given beauty potions and, after a while, having the mixture backfire on them, making the girl uglier than before . . .

Hazel gave an unintentional shiver. She had always stayed a distance from the children of Venus for a reason.

She forced herself to clear her throat and ask, "What did you want to speak with me about, my lady?"

"Love, dear. What else?" The goddess gave a dreamy sigh, then finally opened the lipstick tube she'd been having trouble with, pursed her lips, and rubbed red on them. Hazel watched awkwardly, wishing she would wake up. "I actually wanted to discuss _your_ personal love life, Hazel, and I have a few things to tell you," Aphrodite informed her.

Hazel felt sick to her stomach. This was not good. She had to get out of here before she became cursed with a love or beauty potion, or worse: she actually became curious in the conversation.

"I'm sure there's more interesting things to discuss," Hazel tried, careful to keep her voice level, picking at a nail. She suddenly snapped her fingers. "I've got it! You wouldn't happen to know the location of the Doors of Death, would you? See, we've been trying to find them—"

Aphrodite smiled, a little sadly, and Hazel faltered by the perfect beauty of her expression.

"All in good time, dear," the goddess said. Then she rummaged around in one of her table's drawers before coming up with a bottle of face cream. She opened the lid and began to dab small circles of the cream onto her forehead with her finger. "But, sweetheart, as I was saying—about you love life."

Hazel groaned inwardly.

Aphrodite raised an eyebrow at her. "Frank Zhang, hmm?"

Hazel blushed.

The goddess flashed a grin and giggled. "I knew it all along! In fact, Hera and Artemis bet me that you wouldn't risk getting your heart broken, especially after last time, but I turned out correct—love is too strong! It cannot be resisted!"

Hazel felt embarrassed and uncomfortable around the Aphrodite. She was talking about Frank, Hazel's boyfriend, as if he was nothing more than a bet—tossing aside the small details, such as what a sweet, caring, and loyal person he was.

And all this mushy love stuff really wasn't Hazel's thing.

"Um, Aphrodite?" Hazel asked. "Did you call me here for any _other_ reason than discussing my . . . love life?"

"Hmm." The goddess looked thoughtful and tapped her nose. She had finished creaming her forehead and the skin now appeared even smoother and paler than it already was.

Hazel thought the goddess was going to stay lost in thought forever, and maybe, hopefully, she would wake up from this dream before their conversation went any farther, but Aphrodite surprised Hazel by suddenly whirling around on her swivel chair, away from her vanity table, so that her whole body was facing Hazel, a serious expression on her face. "I said I wanted to discuss your love life, Hazel, and tell you some things. One of the things is gravely important and I suggest you listen closely."

Hazel felt spooked by the goddess's sudden, strange transformation from bubbly and excited to grave and earnest.

"Wh . . . what is it?" Hazel whispered fearfully.

"It is a warning, not to be taken lightly, dear," Aphrodite said, more gently. She paused before saying, solemnly, as though deciding Hazel's funeral, "Your love life, Hazel Levesque, is about to become dramatic, through tragedy."

"What?" Hazel gasped, trying to understand the words that had not quite made contact with her brain yet. "What are you talking about? Explain it to me!" She rushed toward the goddess, but Aphrodite snatched up a large bottle of pink powder and, with lightning speed, poofed it all over Hazel.

"Goodbye, my dear," Aphrodite said sadly. "And in reply to your earlier question, which I was going to mention anyway: You won't learn the location to the Doors of Death from me, but from someone else, and quite soon. And no need to fret about it: fret distracts one from love." She sighed happily, back to her old, sappy self.

The pink powder was clouding Hazel's vision, and her dream dissolved into black.


	14. XIV Hazel

**I wonder what Aphrodite was talking about! :O (Well, _I_ know, but I would like to hear your guys' theories. :) And also, the demigods get a glimpse of the monster army following them in this chapter, though they don't figure out that Clytius specifically is leading it…**

**Book of the Day – ****_Artemis Fowl_**** by Eoin Colfer. This is a completely epic and highly recommendable series! I am a HUGE Artemis Fowl fan, now, after reading the books. Young adult–child fantasy (but not the kind of fantasy you're thinking. There's also, like, a million more genres, so go check it out).**

**Info on this story as of 7/22/13 (when I reach around forty chapters, I'll post the info again, and see how much of a difference there is): 43 reviews, ****23 favorites, 21 alerts, 42,000+ words (165 pages), and 5,321 views.**

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**XIV**

**HAZEL**

**When Hazel awoke, she could still feel** pink powder on her face. She looked over at an alarm clock on her nightstand. 6:30. Morning.

She rubbed her sleepy eyes, feeling light-hearted and happy for Tyson and Ella in her first dream, and troubled by her conversation with Aphrodite in her second dream. The goddess's words were still ringing in her ears.

_Your love life, Hazel Levesque, is about to become dramatic, through tragedy._

_Tragedy._

Hazel dressed quickly, trying to shake off shivers she got thinking about the goddess's words. She hadn't understood Aphrodite's meaning, what the goddess had been trying to tell her, but it didn't sounded good. She decided not to dwell on it for now, to save it for some other time, like when she was feeling dismal and more prepared for deep thoughts.

Hazel was the last one to breakfast, and when she stepped into the room, everyone at the table looked up at her with strange looks on their faces.

Hazel figured she had something on her face, but everyone wasn't exactly staring at her face, so Hazel looked down and saw she had strapped a bronze breastplate on over the tank top she'd slept in, instead of a shirt.

Hazel sighed. Oh, well.

"Hmm. An early riser, and ready for battle in the breaking hours of dawn? I like your attitude, Levesque." Coach Hedge nodded approvingly. "Never too early for a good fight, I always say!"

"I've never heard you say that," Piper commented.

"Oh, shut up, Coach H," Hazel muttered, and sat down between Piper and Nico as Leo snickered across the table. ("Coach H; I could use that," Hazel thought she heard him murmur.) A bowl of oatmeal and blueberries was in front of her.

Hazel looked at Piper questioningly, and Piper shrugged. "Who doesn't like oatmeal and blueberries?"

Hazel shrugged, turning quietly back to her bowl. Of _course_ Piper had made her breakfast. She was like the ship's chef.

The oatmeal had also brought back unwanted memories, though, Hazel realized as she picked up her spoon. She knew Piper was watching, though, so she took a huge bite, trying to ignore the recollection of images of her mother making her oatmeal and blueberries when she was little.

Breakfast was mostly silent, with the occasional outburst from Leo, who seemed to be much more cheery today. When everyone had finishing eating, Leo suddenly stood up on his seat and cleared his throat, waving his arms to get everyone's attention.

"Okay, guys! Listen up! This is a travel update!" He cleared his throat again, then spoke in a broadcaster-like voice. "We are currently leaving the peninsula of Rome, and should arrive at the Tyrrhenian Sea by nightfall. I'll land the ship in the water and sail it for a while, give Festus a break from the flying. So, just sit back and enjoy the Leo-ride, but don't forget to watch out for attacking monsters! Oh, and refreshments are served by Chef Piper McLean. That's all!" He winked and, grinning, sat back down, crossing his arms over his chest smugly.

"I am _not_ a chef, and I wouldn't be caught dead serving refreshments to you, Valdez!" Piper huffed.

Hazel decided she would help Coach Hedge polish weapons for the day. Leo was right about one thing: They always needed to be ready for a fight.

She quickly finished her oatmeal and left Piper to clean up her bowl along with the rest of the dishes, even after Hazel tried to insist on helping (new fact: daughters of Aphrodite can be _stubborn_).

She found Coach Hedge in the armory chamber (his favorite place on the _Argo II_, he claimed; his TV was even set up in the room, with a sofa across from it, so he could watch his Mixed Martial Arts show). The old satyr quickly set her to work polishing a pile of swords he'd just sharpened. (After finishing with each weapon, the coach tried them out, running around the room, lunging at imaginary foes and screaming a deafening battle cry.) He gave her a rag and a bottle of polish.

Hazel quickly grew accustomed to the rhythm of Hedge's sword-sharpening, after which he piled up the weapons for her to polish. She worked in a comfortable silence, apart from Hedge's routinely battle cries after he had finished with each sword. Hazel became intent on finishing her pile of blades.

Noon seemed to arrive almost too quickly—although Hazel's arms and back were sore from hunching over for so long. Hazel stood and stretched, and glanced over at her pile of swords. The stack had only diminished by half. Hazel shrugged. She had the rest of the day to finish.

Before she could leave the room, Hedge called her over and sternly instructed her not to touch his TV set. "It's set so I'll catch my next show. Very complicated. If you pulled the chord on the TV or even pushed a button everything could go wrong. So don't—touch."

Hazel nodded, a little in terror by the satyr, and decided to take a break for lunch. Piper had made Reuben sandwiches for everyone: beef, sauerkraut, and Swiss cheese on toasted rye bread—except Piper's sandwich was missing its beef. She explained to Hazel's questioning look that she was a vegetarian. Hazel nodded. That explained why Piper had spread pesto on top of her spaghetti noodles last night instead of meat sauce. Hazel filed that information away.

Leo complained about his food, saying he hated sauerkraut, and Piper threw her cornucopia at him, which exploded into ketchup-coated shrimps. Leo yelped and began brushing them off.

Hazel laughed quietly to herself, then stood, having finished her sandwich. She announced that she was going back to the engine room to finish polishing her pile of weapons, not even bothering to try to clean up her place at the table. That seemed to be officially Piper's job now.

Walking down the deck of the _Argo II, _away from the chattering demigods still finishing up their sandwiches at the table, Hazel heard hurried footsteps coming after her. She spun around just as Leo shouted, "Hazel! Wait!"

"What?" she asked.

"Can you get me . . . Um, you know, never mind. I can get it myself." He walked past her.

"Get what?" she asked, following at Leo's side.

Leo waved his hand. "A can of a certain kind of motor oil I put in the armory chamber a while ago. I didn't think I'd need it, but brought it along just in case, and now there's some trouble in the engine room when I checked it this morning. I thought since you were going there anyway you could get it for me, but you wouldn't know what it looks like . . ."

"If you described it to me, I could probably find it," Hazel said stubbornly.

"No, you've got your own work with those weapons to worry about, and I need the oil pretty soon," Leo argued.

Hazel opened her mouth, about to lash back with a reply, then quickly closed it, she and Leo staring at each other for a few seconds before both realizing they didn't want to fight again. They looked away at the same time.

Leo cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. "Jeez, it's not such a big deal, Hazel, I can get it," he said.

"Okay." It hurt her pride, making her feel weak, and Hazel only agreed because she knew one of them had to be the peacemaker here, and it was most certainly not going to be Leo. "But let me try to find it first." She wanted to see if she would have found it.

"Sure," Leo shrugged.

Haze led way to the armory chamber and searched for an oil can. She looked on the shelves full of weapons, in Coach Hedge's box of war-related video tapes that Annabeth had organized alphabetically for him, inside Coach Hedge's mini-fridge where he kept bottles of Gatorade, under Coach Hedge's comfy brown fabric chair (he practically lived in the armory chamber), while Leo leaned against a wall, watching her, his arms crossed, smirking at her incorrect guesses.

"Well, do _you_ know where it is?" Hazel finally huffed.

Leo grinned and nodded, and pointed to a corner stacked with materials for polishing weapons. A small aerosol can stood nearby, an assortment of numbers and the words engine oil quite obviously labeling it.

Hazel snorted and crossed her arms, blowing a stray curl out of her face, trying to act nonchalant as Leo went to retrieve the can.

He tripped on a wire on the way and fell on his face, arms and legs splayed out.

Hazel couldn't help smiling a bit; Leo had been acting arrogant and self-knowing only moments ago. But she hurried over, nonetheless, asking, "You all right, Leo?"

Leo groaned and pushed himself up into a sitting position. "Where the heck did that come from? I didn't see the wire before . . ."

Hazel scanned the wire and gasped in horror as she realized it had been the chord that plugged into Coach Hedge's TV set. But when Leo tripped he'd ripped the plug out of the wall—and Coach Hedge had strictly told Hazel not to touch, something about messing up the biggest game in the world that he couldn't wait to watch after lunch, and could only properly watch with a full stomach.

"_Ohhh_, gods . . . Hedge is gonna kill us," Leo whispered, noticing what Hazel was gaping in horror at.

"_Us_? Excuse me, but I seem to remember it being _you_ who tripped over the wire," Hazel said, trying not to panic. What if she just plugged the chord back in? Would the TV turn back on and everything would be all right? Highly unlikely, but it was worth a try . . .

Hazel didn't have time to think more into her plan because Coach Hedge took that moment to walk into the room.

Hazel and Leo froze, Leo still trying to untangle his feet from the chord. Hazel felt sick and was sure her face was rapidly turning a green color. Leo's face was chalk-white.

The satyr took in the whole scene in three seconds—Leo's feet, tangled in the chord; Hazel standing over him, looking horrified; and, most importantly: his TV set, the screen black.

The coach threw back his head, his eyes turning red with fury, bellowing, "Valdez! Levesque! You two are _grounded!"_

Leo was on his feet in an instant, fumbling with the chord, trying to put it back in a nearby outlet on the wall, but the coach was already coming at them, swinging his baseball bat high over his head, shouting a battle cry.

Leo dropped the chord and shouted, "Quick, Hazel! Grab the can!" Coach Hedge reached them and swung his bat at Leo, his face fully red. Leo just manage to duck the fatal weapon that would surely have given him a concussion.

Hazel rushed past them toward the corner of the room and snatched up the precious can of oil which had _so_ better be worth it, shoving it in her back pocket, before dashing after Leo out the room.

They ran down the deck of the _Argo II_ and Hazel could hear the coach pounding the floorboards with his hooves, his shouts growing louder as he came closer to them, and Hazel swore she could _hear_ him swinging his baseball bat over his head.

As they rounded a corner, Leo suddenly pulled at a hole the wall, then Hazel saw that it was a door, and Leo yelped, "In here!" grabbing Hazel around the waist and shoving her with him into a tiny black space.

They weren't a moment too late, for Coach Hedge's thumping footsteps passed them only seconds after Leo had pulled the door closed. All Hazel could do was squat in the confined space, shaking, her eyes squeezed shut, and pray to all the gods that Coach Hedge didn't know about the hidden closet.

She heard the satyr shouting, "Where are you two? Come out! Valdez, I didn't make you do fifty pushups a day just to act like a coward!"

Then Coach Hedge was gone, his shouting faded, though Hazel still hearing the air singing as he swung his baseball bat.

Hazel let out a huge breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. He heart was pounding from the adrenaline of running. Something that felt suspiciously like a broom handle was pressing painfully sharp into her back, and there was a squeak like a bucket as Leo shifted beside her.

"Think he's gone now?" Leo whispered. Hazel hadn't realized until now how close they were. Leo was crouched beside her, his foot squashing her hand.

Hazel shifted to get the broom handle out of her back and tried to pull her hand out from under Leo's shoe. "Probably," she whispered back.

She felt Leo carefully stand up and winced, letting out a little cry as he stepped on her hand again. Leo shuffled forward quickly, muttering, "Sorry."

Then light filled the room as Leo cautiously pushed the door open, and Hazel could see the silhouette of his curly hair. Hazel stood up beside him and brushed dust off of her clothes as Leo peered out, suspiciously scanning the deck.

"He's gone," Leo said, breaking into a grin and sighing, relieved. Then, worriedly, he turned to Hazel and asked, "You got the can, right?"

"Right here." Hazel patted her back pocket, though she was sure Leo couldn't see her in the dim lighting.

They crept across the deck of the _Argo II_ and Hazel tried to keep her shoes from squeaking.

"I think I'll go help Piper in the kitchen," she whispered to Leo. "It's probably wise for both of us to stay away from Coach Hedge for a few hours."

She reached for her pack pocket to give the oil can to Leo when she suddenly heard pounding footsteps, and Leo grabbed her arm and flattened her with him against a wall. Coach Hedge appeared running by only a moment later, grunting angrily, although Hazel noticed his face was not quite so red.

Hazel held her breath as he passed them. If he just looked over he would see them, and he still had his baseball bat clutched tightly in his hand . . .

The satyr passed by without seeing them, and Hazel breathed a sigh of relief.

She looked over at Leo, whose face was stricken in terror. Hazel probably looked the same way.

"That was close," Leo said.

Then Hazel started cracking up. She wasn't sure why she found the situation funny; she was probably just laughing from all her adrenaline. But then Leo started laughing, too, and he had these big, snorting guffaws that just made Hazel laugh even harder.

She clutched her stomach and had to wipe tears from her eyes, and when her laughter eventually faded, she was still smiling. Hazel looked over at Leo and saw that he was grinning, too. He looked back at her and Hazel suddenly realized how close they were. Their faces had to be only four inches apart . . . Hazel caught her breath as Leo's grin slowly slid off his face and was replaced with a serious expression.

Hazel's head felt dizzy, and she swayed on her feet, her face coming closer to Leo's as she stared into his eyes. Leo was leaning toward her, mouth partly open as though he was going to tell her something or . . .

_Clank._ Hazel pulled back and let out a small gasp. She whirled around and saw the source of the noise that had interrupted her and Leo. The strangest sight met her: a mahogany table, about three feet high, with a round top and three legs, that appeared to be _walking_ toward Leo, making clanking and squeaking sounds, steam coming out of some little vents sticking up on one side.

Leo sighed and asked, "Bufford, what are you doing up on deck?" He sounded annoyed, but his voice was trembling a little, and Hazel suddenly realized her legs were shaking.

The table made more clanking sounds, and Leo replied, "I already _told_ you we were going to fix it, I was just getting the oil . . ." He then turned to Hazel, not quite meeting her eyes, and held out his hand, clearing his throat.

Hazel realized he was indirectly asking for the oil can. "Oh!" she said, and fumbled for it in her pocket. She dropped it in Leo's outstretched hand, making sure not to touch him, then fiddled with the hem of her shirt. "Um . . . I should . . . go . . . I have to . . ."

"Yeah . . . you do that . . ." Leo agreed a little to quickly, but Hazel was already running off.

When she'd put a good distance between herself and Leo, Hazel let out a huff and tossed her hair. _Well . . ._

She faintly heard Leo talking to the walking table (Hazel didn't even question the strange things on Leo's ship anymore). "I told you to stay in the engine room, Buford."

Clanks and squeaks.

"What? What was _what_ about? Nothing happened . . . Oh, shut up . . ."

Hazel was headed to the kitchen where Piper no doubt was, absorbed in her troubling thoughts, when she felt a shadow pass over her.

Hazel looked up and gasped as she saw a black pegasus flying over her, its wings beating strong, silent against its sides, its eyes a murderous red.

Hazel instantly pulled out a dagger she had tucked into her waistband earlier. The pegasus didn't seem to notice her, but its red eyes screamed evil. It was definitely not a friendly creature like Percy's pet Blackjack.

Hazel took off running to tell the rest of the crew. She wasn't really looking where she was going and bumped into Piper, who was walking down the deck.

"Piper!" Hazel gasped, regaining her balance. "I saw this pegasus—"

Suddenly a shrieking, high-pitched neigh sounded behind Hazel, and she whirled around just as the pegasus lunged at her. She leapt out of the way, but the creature's sharp teeth managed to rip out a chunk of her shirt sleeve.

"Whoa!" Piper's eyes widened and she drew her dagger, taking in the situation immediately, and came to stand by Hazel. The girls stood back to back, guarding each other, their weapons outstretched in front of them as the pegasus doubled back and swooped down at them.

"Where did it come from?" Piper asked, lunging at the pegasus and managing a hit to its front leg. The pegasus whinnied angrily and beat its powerful wings, causing Hazel's hair to blow back. Its anger seemed to be clouding its judgement, though, as it foolishly charged straight at Piper's weapon. Piper slashed upward when the creature came close enough, stabbing its underbelly. The pegasus exploded into monster powder, dousing Hazel and Piper, like a sandstorm.

"Gross!" Hazel spit out dust, and tried unsuccessfully to shake out her shirt.

"Better than the alternative of it hurting us," Piper said. "Did you see that thing? It was _murderous."_ She shook her head. "It would have taken off my whole hand, for sure."

"But where did it come from?" Hazel wondered. "It looked so . . . _evil_. Most pegasi are friendly, right? Why did it attack us?"

Piper shrugged. "No way we can find out now. I mean, we can't exactly ask its pile of dust—not that any of us speak horse anyway, if it had been alive—"

She was cut off suddenly, letting out a strangled gasp of fright as an identical pegasus to the one she had just slain swooped down behind her and picked her up in its teeth by the collar of her shirt. Piper waved her arms around wildly as the pegasus tried to carry her away. Hazel spotted Katoptris, dropped on the ground.

Hazel was filled with a sudden fury at the creature. It was _not_ going to take Piper, helpless, away.

She charged it, shouting a battle cry Coach Hedge would have been proud of, yielding only her dagger raised up in both of her hands.

The pegasus seemed surprised by her attack, and dropped Piper, who looked startled, safely back on the ground. Hazel continued running at the creature, aiming her dagger right between its eyes, and was rewarded with another monster dust coating after it exploded.

Piper was still trying to catch her breath, a shocked look in her eyes. She reached for her knife with a shaking arm. "Are there any more?" she managed to choke out.

Hazel turned in a full circle, scanning the deck. "I can't spot any," she said. She hefted her dagger. "Don't worry. If any more try to carry you off, I'll be ready."

"Thanks." Piper's voice was a little less shaky but her whole face still looked scared.

Suddenly pounding footsteps sounded on the deck and Hazel spotted Nico, Coach Hedge, and Leo running toward her and Piper.

"What happened?" Nico asked. "We heard sounds—"

"Is it monsters? Where are they? I knew I smelled monsters!" Coach Hedge was whirling like a tornado, searching eagerly for new foes to fight. "Come at me, you cowards!" He seemed to have totally forgotten about beating Hazel and Leo up for dismantling his TV set.

Hazel told everyone what had happened, trying to keep her voice calm, mostly for Piper's sake, who was slowly coming out of her shock.

Nico absorbed Hazel's words. "So two pegasi—" he began.

"—_evil_ pegasi," Leo helpfully reminded. "With red eyes and sharp teeth and—"

"—came out of nowhere and deliberately attacked you?" Nico finished, completely ignoring Leo.

"Yes, and one tried to carry Piper off—"

"Good thing Jason's not here," Leo mumbled.

Hazel sent him a death glare before turning back to her brother. "When they attacked us, they almost seemed to come out of nowhere, as though they'd been spying on us . . . and when I first saw the first one, it didn't pay me any attention, like it hadn't come for _us_—"

Nico got what his sister was saying. "Scouts." He nodded grimly.

"Scouts for who? What does this mean?" Piper asked fearfully.

Nico's black eyes seemed even darker and moodier than usual. "It means that someone's on our trail."

Piper was stunned for a few seconds. "What? But who?" she asked.

"No doubt some group of monsters sent by Gaea." Nico's eyes flashed angrily.

"We'll have to keep an even closer eye out if whoever's following us is going to send out attacking monsters every few hours," Hazel decided.

"Well, I think these monsters are stupid. If they're following us and don't want us to know, why send attacking scouts out?" Piper asked.

"Monsters have never been the brightest," Leo offered. "Those scouts probably _weren't_ supposed to attack us."

"Wait, if the monsters are only after us to attack us, to stop us from completing quest, then why do they care if we see them?" Hazel asked.

Nico was silent for a moment, then shrugged. "They must be following us for another reason. I'll think on it. Meanwhile, let's hope the monsters don't catch up with us. There has to be quite a large group of them. Leo? Speed our travel, if possible." Then Nico coughed into his fist, worn out from talking.

Leo nodded and saluted.

Coach Hedge, who hadn't really been paying attention to their conversation, pouted, and asked, "Wait, does this mean I don't have any monsters to destroy?"

"Don't worry, Coach, you'll most likely have some pretty soon," Hazel said wearily.

Leo cursed, and banged a fist into his palm. "I _really_ should invent the chicken-nugget smoke screen, now."

* * *

**How did you like that Hazel and Leo almost-kiss? :DD**

**So yeah, these Hazel chapters have been pretty slow and kind of filler; sorry about that… but a lot of action's coming up with Annabeth and Percy soon!**


	15. XV Annabeth

**Ooh, new character alert in this chapter! Let me know what you think of him. And there's a fight scene! :D**

**Check out my new Percy Jackson "Don't Look Back" story if you like, and if you'd be ever so kind to review it I'd appreciate it. :) It's an angsty Percabeth one shot.**

**I just want to thank ****percylover4ever**** tremendously for ranting in a review about how amazing this story is! Thank you sooo much! You totally made my day! This chapter is dedicated to them.**

**And I also want to thank water6631 for reviewing, favoriting, and following this story, and favoriting and following me as an author! Thank you so much! You're awesome!**

**Book of the Day – ****_The Reluctant Assassin_**** by Eoin Colfer (seriously, he's got lots of good stuff. Look him up or something). Book one in W.A.R.P. It came out only last April, so I'll have to wait for the second book. :(**

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**XV**

**ANNABETH**

**As Annabeth and Percy drew closer** to the opening in the wall, Annabeth saw that it was a doorway. The outline was plated in gold, and jewels decorated it. Gold hinges hung on the right side of the frame, suggesting that there might have one been a door. Above it was a gold plaque, which read: Τάρταρος.

"'Tartarus,'" Annabeth translated.

"You know, I can read Ancient Greek too, Wise Girl," Percy grumbled. He gave a big sigh. "Great, so they have an official entry to the worst part of the Underworld?"

Despite his slightly grumpy attitude, Percy become solemn when Annabeth found his hand in the darkness and latched her fingers tightly on his. He gave her a squeeze, letting her know that he was there for her. Annabeth swallowed a nervous lump in her throat.

Then, together, they stepped through the doorway.

• • •

The air was colder in Tartarus, and as Annabeth stepped from the cave room and past the doorway, she caught a whiff of musty decay. It reminded her of the time she and her dad had visited her aunt in Texas when she was thirteen. They had been planning to all go peach picking, and Annabeth had gone down into the basement of her aunt's house to get a wicker basket. Annabeth had found the wicker basket with a dead mole in it, flies buzzing on top of it. The smell of the musty basement combined with the rotting odor had made Annabeth gag, and she'd fled back up the basement stairs and into the clear, sunny day outside.

Except Annabeth knew there was no staircase for her to run up and escape out of this place. She would have to face her dark and smelly surroundings if she wanted to eventually get out of here.

It was a comfort to know she had some provisions in her backpack, such as food and a flashlight. And, of course, Percy by her side helped tremendously.

They stared straight ahead at a huge field of tall wheat stalks, faintly glowing a pale, pulsing yellow. The craggy rock walls and roof also had a faint, eerie, pale-blue halo surrounding them, so the room was dimly lit.

"The Plains of Tartarus," Annabeth breathed. She scanned her surroundings to her right and left. The ground was empty up to the black, ominous walls. Annabeth looked up and could now see a cavernous roof high overhead.

"I guess there's just one way to go," Annabeth said. She tightened her hold on Percy's hand and they began their trek forward.

When they came to the edge of the wheat field, Annabeth studied it warily. The domain was so vast she couldn't see the other side. She didn't like that.

They started forward, and burs caught on Annabeth's jeans and the hem of her T-shirt.

"I hope this is the right way," Percy muttered nervously. "We should keep an eye out for any doors or openings in the walls."

Annabeth nodded, and they continued on in a tense silence—which raised her stress level even more, and pretty soon all she was standing on was nerves, her alertness at its highest point. She pushed back some sweaty strands of hair from her forehead, taking in quick, short breaths.

Percy looked over at her, sensing her anxiety, and slipped an arm over her shoulders. "Hey, it's okay. We're fine. Don't start freaking out on me."

Annabeth shook her head, hating to look weak in front of her boyfriend. All her life, since she'd learned her mom was a war goddess, she'd tried her hardest to look tough and hard. She had to stay strong, if she wanted to survive the life of a demigod.

"I'm fine. I just . . . have the strangest feeling. Why is it so empty here? I mean, aren't there tons of monsters in Tartarus? This is where they reform after they're killed, until they're reincarnated again, right?"

Percy scanned their surroundings, as if just realizing her point. Annabeth could tell he was on alert, too, from the way he held her hand so tightly.

He finally shrugged. "I'm not sure. What do you think, Wise Girl?"

"I'm not sure, either," Annabeth admitted. "But I have the strangest feeling that there _are_ monsters here, that they're around us even now, hiding from us."

Percy frowned. "Why would they be hiding from us?"

Annabeth almost paused as she felt something slithering around her legs, hidden in the grass, and sucked in her breath, trying to tell herself she was just imagining it.

"Maybe . . . maybe there's a bigger foe nearby, one that even the monsters are afraid of." Annabeth shivered.

She could tell Percy didn't like that suggestion, from the way he was looking warily over their shoulders.

Annabeth sighed, trying to cover up her nervousness. "Let's just get out of this field," she said, then continued hurriedly forward, almost pulling Percy along.

When they finally reached the edge of the field and stepped out of the wheat stalks and onto the dry, craggy rock again, Annabeth almost sighed in relief.

Her eyes flickered upward as she thought she saw a shadow disappear into a dark crack in the roof.

Percy followed her gaze, then tightened his hand on hers when a faint shriek emitted from the unseen creature.

"Probably just bats or something," Percy mumbled.

Annabeth glanced behind her and saw a few tiny creatures fly up out of the wheat, as though trying to escape something.

"Percy . . ." Annabeth whispered. "I have the strangest feeling . . . like all this stillness is the calm before a storm."

"But what's the storm?" Percy asked. He helped her step over a wide crack in the ground, and as Annabeth passed over it she felt heat warm her shins. She looked down and saw a faint, red glow. Maybe lava, or something worse, awaited hundreds of miles below.

"It must something big," Annabeth said. She suddenly realized the rocky ground she and Percy were traveling on had formed into a path, and up ahead she could spot where it split. The cave walls dipped outward to accommodate each trail.

She was about to ask Percy's opinion on which way they should go, when she heard a heavy thumping noise behind them, growing louder every second. She whirled around and gasped as she spotted a huge, dark figure in the distance, advancing upon them.

"Take cover!" Annabeth shouted to Percy. "It's the storm!"

She ran to a large rock jutting out of the ground and pulled herself behind it. The cool, smooth stone pressing against her back was somehow comforting. Heart pounding, she slid aside to allow Percy to stumble beside her, his mouth open, gasping like a fish.

Annabeth pulled her knife from her belt and peeked around the rock at the still-charging figure. It wasn't much more than a black silhouette, still on the other side of the wheat field, but even so, at its pace, Annabeth calculated it would reach them in less than a minute.

"You might want to draw your weapon," Annabeth told Percy. Then she closed her eyes and waited a moment, composing herself, letting the creature come even closer, the heavy footsteps and angry snorts than defined it to be a monster pounding in her ears.

Then Annabeth leapt out from behind the rock as the creature came right at her. She struck a pose, one knee on the ground, her teeth gritted, her dagger clenched in her hands, outstretched in front of her.

Then Annabeth saw what the creature was.

Or rather, _who_ it was.

She cursed under her breath, almost toppling over, and had to clench her dagger even tighter to keep it from slipping out of her grasp in shock.

He was an old enemy of all demigods, especially Percy—and the last time Annabeth had seen him face-to-face was when she had been seven years old; her young mind had just had time to absorb the size of the monster, to be shocked by how _big_ he was—right before he had killed her friend, Thalia.

The Minotaur bounded closer, gaining yards with each step.

Percy jumped out from behind the rock, his sword, Riptide, drawn, uttering a battle cry that died in his throat. He swallowed, his fierce expression dropping instantly and his mouth falling open in surprise when he saw it was the Minotaur.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me," Percy said, and his sword went limp at his side.

The Minotaur finally reached them, and swung a huge, meaty arm at Percy as he went barreling past. The monster roared as he recognized him, and his red eyes flared even brighter in anger. Percy easily dodged him, and the Minotaur kept running past, too fast to stop.

"Gods, I've already killed this thing twice!" Percy complained.

"Percy, just _shut up_ and help me destroy it, will you?" Annabeth shouted.

Percy crouched down beside her as the Minotaur finally slowed enough to whirl around and charge them again.

"This guy's big and fast, but he can't change positions quickly without having to stop," Percy told Annabeth.

Annabeth didn't reply, feeling too tense, but also because she trusted Percy, who had defeated this monster twice. She mentally saved the information, and decided to use it in this fight if she got a chance. She stared into the bull-man's beady red eyes as he came bounding closer, snorting. He was still wearing his ridiculous white underwear, which Annabeth had almost thought comical when she'd seen it for the first time.

"We can do this," she whispered, more to herself than Percy, but he nodded. "You took on this guy yourself, when you were twelve. We're older, and there's two of us, so we shouldn't have a problem."

"Right," Percy agreed.

So why couldn't Annabeth shake off the uneasy feeling she got about the Minotaur that they were hopelessly outmatched in this fight?

She tried to dismiss her thoughts, and decided to tell Percy her battle plan instead. Ordering him around reminded her of better days, and made her feel better.

"Percy, slash at his legs, and I'll go for under his arm. If we get trip him and get him down, he's finished," Annabeth said.

She didn't look over, but she was pretty sure he nodded.

Annabeth took a deep breath and flexed her wrists on her knife handle. She studied the Minotaur's pace, then calculated that he would reach them in about twenty seconds.

She began to mentally count in her head, and when she got to ten, she began to whisper the seconds aloud.

"Nine . . . eight . . . seven . . ."

The Minotaur roared loud enough to scare Medusa, and Annabeth was pretty sure if he'd been any closer her eardrums would have been blasted, but all she could think was how ridiculous he looked in his white underwear.

". . . five . . . four . . . three . . ."

The Minotaur was really close now, the huge muscles in his arms and legs pumping as he ran.

"One," Annabeth said, and the Minotaur reached them right on time.

But something was wrong. Annabeth could sense it. Maybe it was in the pounding of the monster's hooves, or the way his hairy, muscular arms gleamed at his sides. But she saw she was right when Percy had barely lifted his sword to swing out and try to trip the Minotaur, and the monster's arm swept down, quick as lightning, and slammed Percy in the chest, hurling him aside.

Annabeth's mouth dropped open, but she didn't have time to register the fact that the Minotaur had just become twenty times faster, because then he was charging _her_.

She had no time to think, no time to try to defend herself with her weapon. She just dropped to the ground and rolled between the Minotaur's hairy legs.

Annabeth kept her head to the ground and did not look up until she had safely passed under the Minotaur, and was on her feet again, but she'd still been able to _smell_ the revolting monster stench.

She watched as he swerved around and charged her. Annabeth couldn't help gasping. When the Minotaur had been alive, he had never been this fast and agile. Something was wrong.

She risked a glance behind her and saw that she was trapped, her back against a rock. Then she faced the Minotaur again as he charged her, and waited until the last minute before feigning leaping to the right (she knew the Minotaur was expecting her to leap aside, as she had before) and he grabbed at her, but Annabeth was already hurrying past his left side, leaving the monster to slam into the rock so hard he cracked it in half, and had to sit down for a moment, stunned.

This gave Annabeth a chance to hurry over to Percy, to see if he was all right, but even so, she knew the Minotaur was just chasing her to toy with her. Annabeth was pretty sure he knew as well as she did that she would wear out soon, and then he'd catch her.

"Percy! Are you all right?" she asked, coming to kneel beside him and pulling his head into her lap.

Percy moaned, blinking his eyes to focus on her face. He sat up, clutching his head. "My _skull_ . . ."

"It's not cracked, is it? Listen, Percy, I have a theory," Annabeth went on quickly. "I think the Minotaur—monsters in general—are stronger in Tartarus. Reincarnating back to the world must sap their energy. How else would the Minotaur be so fast and strong down here? You didn't even get a chance to swing your sword before he hit you and you were sailing through the air!"

Percy considered her words, then nodded slowly in agreement. "Makes sense. So, the Minotaur's doubly strong here. But there's two of us, so shouldn't we have a chance against him?"

"I don't know, Percy," Annabeth said uneasily. She hesitated, then shrugged. "Maybe, now that we know what to expect, we can plan and defeat him."

She glanced nervously over her shoulder. The Minotaur was coming out of his shock, and soon he would double back and charge them again.

This time (Annabeth hoped), she and Percy would be ready.

She helped Percy stand, and they positioned themselves side by side as the Minotaur stood, roaring, and turned around, galloping toward them again.

Annabeth's gaze flickered over to Percy, to see him raise his sword in both hands. Annabeth's own dagger was grasped in one hand, hanging by her side. She had a different part to play in this than her boyfriend, and it wouldn't be on the ground.

Just as the Minotaur reached them, Annabeth launched herself into a front flip and kicked off of the creature's chest. The Minotaur barely stumbled in his step, but he did slow down a little, giving Annabeth time to circle behind him and run up his huge back, using his muscles as footholds.

The Minotaur's fur was coarse under Annabeth's hands and shoes. She eventually scrambled onto his shoulders, and the monster was so big he didn't even know she was on him; he just kept charging Percy.

Percy, luckily, wasn't phased by Annabeth's action. He played his part, slashing at the Minotaur's legs, then running out of the way before the creature could sweep him aside again.

Annabeth put a hand on the Minotaur's giant shoulder to steady herself, then took a deep breath. She stood up fully, bringing her dagger back, before plunging it down into the monster's head.

Her dagger bounced off his skull, and Annabeth's mouth had barely fallen open, not so much in shock as irritation, the thought—_What, so his skin's like iron, too?_—passing through her mind when she was swept away by a monstrous hand reach up for her.

Annabeth cried out as she fell to the ground, and the impact was jarring, but she was on her feet again instantly, wincing a bit and rubbing her side. She whirled around, searching for her dagger, which was gone, and panicked when she didn't spot it.

She turned in circles, looking for Percy, her dagger, trying to call out to make sure Percy had escaped unharmed, when the Minotaur suddenly swept his giant fist down and caught her in it. Annabeth shrieked and tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but the monster's grip was crushing, and it took all her strength just to take small gasps of air.

"Annabeth!" she heard Percy scream.

Annabeth knew this must be even more traumatizing for Percy than for her; he must be thinking back to the time when his mom had been killed by this same creature.

_"No!"_ Percy screamed. "You will _not_ take her, too!"

Annabeth could see Percy through blurry eyes as he began to run toward the Minotaur. Her vision darkened, and she realized she was on the verge of a blackout—when a black shape suddenly swooped into the side of Percy, knocking him to the ground—and the shape was gone before she could register what it was.

Percy sat up, dazed. "Wha—" he started.

Then Annabeth was suddenly released from the Minotaur's grasp, and she fell to the ground, not even feeling the impact as she took great gulps of air, so relieved to breathe again that tears ran down her cheeks. She looked up at the roaring Minotaur hovering above her, and she suddenly realized her helpless position, standing unarmed in front of the creature, just waiting to be picked up and crushed again.

But the Minotaur didn't stoop down and pick her up again. Instead, he toppled sideways, and Annabeth saw his dull red eyes flash past, his meaty arms fall, motionless, to his sides, as he fell, lifeless, to the ground.

When he hit the ground, rocks rumbled. Then the monster vanished, leaving only a pile of dust behind, which was soon swept up by an invisible wind and carried away.

Annabeth's brain was pretty much in overdrive, trying to figure out what had just happened. Her mouth was hanging open in confusion and shock when she saw the source of the Minotaur's defeat: A tall, black-robed man, his hood drawn over his head, stood in the Minotaur's place, a staff outstretched in one hand.

He drew his staff in close to his body, holding it by its knobbly handle, and lifted his hood. Annabeth registered a middle-aged face with black eyes and shoulder-length scraggly hair, so dark-brown it almost looked black.

The man walked toward her casually, as though he had all the time in the world.

Annabeth was about to ask the man who he was when she felt a shock go through her ankle. She gasped and sat down hard, clutching her foot.

Percy ran over and knelt beside her, his eyes wide. "What's wrong?" he whispered.

Annabeth cursed under her breath. "I thought it had healed . . . or at least gotten better— Ow," she gasped, sweat pricking her forehead and dripping into her eyes.

Percy took her foot gingerly in his hands, and Annabeth could see that it was pointed the wrong way. She'd obviously re-broken it, fighting the Minotaur, and ambrosia had barely helped the first time . . .

The man reached Annabeth, still moving slowly, and knelt beside her. She tried to scoot away. For some reason, he made her nervous. It was like he had an aura around him warning, _Stay away!_ Up close, Annabeth could see that his were actually blue, but so dark they looked black.

"Will you let me see your ankle?" he asked, his voice calm and soothing.

Annabeth didn't want to trust this guy, but she was in so much pain she didn't have any other option. Percy was too scared to be much help right now. Besides, he had saved her life by killing the Minotaur. And he looked like he knew what he was doing. Unless this was a trap, he couldn't be too bad.

She begrudgingly let him take her ankle in his hands.

Percy watched the man like a hawk as he handled Annabeth's ankle He was obviously not ready to trust him, even though he'd just saved his girlfriend's life.

The man took drew a piece of gauze, almost magically, out of the folds of his robe, and slowly began to wrap it around Annabeth's ankle.

Percy blurted out, "Who are you?"

The man didn't reply for a moment, still calmly wrapping the gauze, and when he did speak he didn't answer Percy's question. "I felt the presence of two new lives in the cave room—and not just monster lives, but demigods. I came to meet you for myself," he said. "Luckily, I showed up in time to save the young lady."

Annabeth decided to let the "young lady" comment slide. "You're the one we've been looking for, aren't you?" she asked between stabs of pain in her foot. She gritted her her teeth against it. "We heard you know your way around this place and can show us out of it."

"That depends on where you would you like to go," the man said. Then he asked Annabeth, "Does this hurt?" and prodded just above her ankle bone with his fingertips.

Annabeth nodded and squeezed her eyes shut against tears.

Percy watched in concern, then answered the man's question. "We'd like to go to the House of Hades. Do you know the way?"

The man stiffened ever so slightly, then relaxed again so Annabeth almost thought she'd imagined it, and bent down so his head was hovering above her ankle, muttering some words under his breath. He pulled back and Annabeth watched as the gauze finished winding itself, and she felt a tingling go through her foot.

The man stared at Annabeth's still leg for a moment before answering Percy in a low voice. "I do know the way. I have taken many other demigods to the House. None, I am afraid to say, were strong enough to survive."

Percy gave the man a suspicious. "That's not what we heard—"

Annabeth kicked him with her good foot, and Percy yelped, "Ow!" before Annabeth quickly rushed on.

"We just heard from Hades that you go to every demigod to fall into Tartarus, and lead them through it," she explained.

When the man didn't reply, Annabeth timidly said, "We also heard that some demigods . . . died before they reached Hades's temple."

"This is true," he said gravely. "As I said, they were not strong enough. You two, I have to say, look stronger than the others. And, of course, the few that _did_ survive past the House did not have anyone to open the Doors of Death from the outside for them, so they were trapped. Do you have friends to help you?"

"Yes," Annabeth confessed, then added in her mind, _I hope._ She was confident their friends on the _Argo II_ would come for them . . . but would they make it on time? Then she asked, "Will you take us to the House of Hades?"

The man nodded. "If that is what you decide. It _is_ my job. I have been leading demigods through the Plains of Tartarus for centuries."

"How far is it?" Annabeth asked curiously, her Athena genes kicking in. She wanted to know all the facts to be prepared.

"The journey is more than seven red moons," the man answered. "And we will have to make stops to gather provisions."

_Red moons?_ Annabeth wondered.

"So, over a week?" Percy said. "If you're going to be leading us around for two weeks, what should we call you?"

The man bent down and started unwrapping the gauze around Annabeth's ankle, seeming to be purposely ignoring Percy. Annabeth realized the tingling feeling had stopped. When he unwrapped it fully, Annabeth gasped. Her ankle bone wasn't flopped awkwardly on the ground anymore, and the pain had stopped.

"Try to stand," the man encouraged.

Annabeth hesitantly stood up and took a few steps, then laughed in delight when her foot didn't crumble to the ground and, instead, held strong. But this also made her wonder who, exactly, this mysterious and powerful man was.

The man stood, also smiling slightly. He turned to Percy, finally answering his question. "I am called Tenebris," he said.

Percy was at Annabeth's side, supporting her, still glaring untrustingly at him.

Tenebris ignored his look, and addressed both Annabeth and Percy. "There will be other monsters on the journey," he warned. "Are you sure you are up to it?"

Annabeth glanced at Percy, who was looking back at her, an uneasy expression on his face.

"Why don't you two talk it over?" Tenebris offered. "I have to go . . . refill the power in my staff. Killing Manny practically my poor weapon's power."

He turned and walked off briskly, leaving Annabeth thinking, _Manny?_ But this man had been down here for years . . . It was no wonder he was calling monsters nicknames.

Annabeth also wondered about Tenebris's staff, and how its power worked.

And she hadn't failed to notice the hesitation in the middle of Tenrbris's sentence. He'd said "I have to go . . ." as though he _wasn't_ going to replenish his staff, as though he was going to do something else.

But Annabeth didn't question it farther, if he was doing something else. She was sure everyone in Tartarus had their own secrets.

Percy turned to Annabeth, and whispered, as though Tenebris could still hear them, even though he'd walked off out of sight, "Are you sure we can trust him?"

Annabeth shrugged. "It's not like we have another choice." She held up her ankle and pointed to it. "And anyway, why would he help me just now?"

"He knows that we're were demigods," Percy pointed out. "Maybe he wants us for something, and he needs us strong."

Annabeth frowned and shook her head. "I know what you mean. It feels like we're walking into a trap. But, supposedly, this guy's been down here for years, leading demigods through Tartarus—although strange things _have_ happened to some of them. . . . But, like I said, we don't have another option."

"I guess not. And we can't exactly sit around here waiting for one to pop up." Percy sighed. "But we need to stay alert, prepare for anything this guys has to spring at us."

"What, his staff, which he already showed to us, and some old magical gauze?" Annabeth asked, though she agreed with Percy.

Just then, Tenebris returned.

Annabeth glanced at the man and noticed that one of his robe sleeves was slightly pushed up on his wrist. She mentally shrugged. It wasn't any of her business.

"Have you two decided yet?" Tenebris asked.

Annabeth nodded, then hesitated and gave Percy a glance. He nodded to her in turn, and she turned back to Tenebris, saying, "Lead us to the House of Hades."

"Excellent. Just follow along behind me," Tenebris instructed. "I'll give out warnings when we're nearing danger." He suddenly tossed Annabeth her dagger, which she hadn't found since the Minotaur had grabbed her, and Annabeth barely caught it in surprise.

He turned, his robes swishing slightly at his feet, and began walking at a fast, but calm, pace.

Annabeth just stood there for a moment, and Percy hung back with her, giving her a nervous look. Annabeth shook her head, then they followed the dark robes ahead, which blended in with the darkness.

Though Annabeth wouldn't say it aloud, she agreed with Percy and couldn't shake the feeling that Tenebris was not to be trusted. He certainly had an eerie feel about him. But she and Percy followed him, anyway, as he lead them through the dark, both of their hands resting, ready, on the hilts of their weapons.


	16. XVI Annabeth

**Yeah, this is a quick update, but the chapter's short. Hope you like it anyway!**

**You get a little Percabeth toward the end! :) Enjoy, and remember to review!**

**Book of the Day – ****_Stormbreaker_**** by Anthony Horowitz. Young adult–child action/adventure. Anthony Horowitz is a great writer and the Alex Rider series is really entertaining! The books also get better as they go along. I think they're written more for boys, but I enjoyed them, too.**

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**XVI**

**ANNABETH**

**Annabeth was not feeling the joy.**

As she and Percy followed Tenebris through Tartarus, he gave them their own personal guided tour, cheerfully pointing out rocks and rivers and naming them like he was old friends with the scenery. Which, he probably was.

Once a creature with bright-red wings that lit up even in the dark flew past their heads, shrieking, and Annabeth and Percy yelped and ducked into a low crouch. Tenebris, however, merely smiled and said, "Oh, that's just Phoenix! Poor old dear, you know each time she dies she bursts into flames and is later reborn into a new bird? I always held sympathy for her. . . . Apparently she's in Tartarus now because she did some evil deeds in her last life. I heard the three Furies themselves had the job of dragging her down here, flaming the whole way. It wasn't pretty."

Annabeth was starting to suspect this guy had some serious mental issues. First he'd called the Minotaur "Manny;" now the legendary Phoenix was a "poor old dear"?

Of course, who wouldn't have even some slight brain problems, living down here? This place's darkness and shrieking creatures was probably home to Tenebris. He'd lived here for, like, the past thousands of years. Like some people talked about their houses, "Oh, look! This is my living room!" Tenebris said about Tartarus: "Oh! And those are the Fields of Eternal Torture! Fun!"

He led them on, always walking smoothly and calmly, his hands folded in front of him, so he and his robes reminded Annabeth of a monk. In fact, everything about this guy was so eerily calm, especially his voice, which was low and melodious, that it creeped Annabeth out.

They walked across the same craggy rock ground, and every once in a while Percy shot Annabeth a sideways glance, checking up on her. Annabeth always smiled when he did this. It was so sweet.

The walls continued to give off their strange blue glow, and Annabeth was grateful, but the lighting was still so dim she stumbled and stubbed her toe so often she was tempted to take out her flashlight.

Finally, after following a rocky trail for so long Annabeth's feet started to hurt, Tenebris suddenly whirled around and faced them, tapping the ground with his staff.

"I need to . . . go look ahead," he said. "I sense some disturbances not far from here. You two stay here and rest up. You'll be perfectly safe. I can tell you are tired." His tone was almost kind. But again, he had hesitated when speaking, making Annabeth suspicious. But before she could question the robed man he was already walking off quickly.

"Hmph. Someone's in a hurry," Percy muttered.

Annabeth was so exhausted she didn't reply, just collapsed on her feet. Percy barely caught her head before it hit the ground. She was panting slightly, and Percy took out the water bottle from her backpack and tipped it up to her mouth so she could drink. She gulped it down gratefully, then sighed when Percy took the bottle away. He hadn't moved her head from his lap.

"What do you think of Tenebris so far?" Annabeth asked. She let her eyes slip shut tiredly, and felt Percy's breath tickling her face as he hovered over her.

"He seems like what would happen to a person who'd been down here thousands of years." Percy shrugged. "Kind of crazy, but he knows his way around, I guess. But what about the rumors you heard Hades mention in your dream . . . demigods strangely disappearing, just when they arrived at the House of Hades, after they'd been lead by _Tenebris_ through Tartarus?"

"Yes, but that may have nothing to do with Tenebris," Annabeth argued. "Maybe it's Hades's temple that the demigods didn't survive." Annabeth shrugged.

"Well, then we'd better be prepared for it," Percy said firmly.

"Have you noticed that Tenebris keeps sneaking off?" Annabeth asked, changing the subject. Truthfully, even the thought of the House of Hades made her a little nervous. She wished she knew more about it, or at least had Nico or Hazel here to tell her about it. It was a little strange that she'd never heard of it before.

Percy shrugged. "That is a little strange. But at least he let us rest for a while."

"Mmm." Annabeth opened her eyes a little to see Percy's face, looking down on her. He had a little smile in the corner of his mouth, and the way he looked at her made her feel like the luckiest girlfriend in the world.

"You know, I'm really glad you're here with me, Percy," Annabeth said. She shook her head. "I honestly don't know if I could make it by myself." She was surprised and infuriated when her voice cracked. She didn't want to sound emotional.

"Of course you could." Percy hesitated before reaching out a hand and touching her cheek. "But, for the record, I'm glad I'm with you, too. I would never have forgiven myself if I had let go of you on that ledge." He leaned down and kissed her gently.

Annabeth was silent. She didn't speak because too many discouraging thoughts were running through her head that would totally kill the moment. A small part of her wished Percy _had_ saved himself. She would feel better, knowing that he was safe. And although Percy kept assuring her that they were fine, Annabeth wasn't sure if they could survive down here. After all, they were below ground, rocks and dirt all around them. They were at the heart of the Earth, in Gaea's strongest domain.

Annabeth considered telling Percy that he was the best boyfriend and best friend ever to her, just in case, but that was just depressing. So she kept quiet.

Annabeth was exhausted from walking, but she was also sleepy-tired, so she figured it had to be nighttime aboveground.

_Is there even a night down here?_ she wondered. _Or do people just go to sleep whenever they feel like it?_

Then she spotted a round, red glow in the black sky, and recalled Tenebris's comment about a "red moon." Annabeth's practical subconscious doubted the shape was actually a moon, but it did resemble one, and was eerily pretty, sitting motionless high overhead. She stared at it for a while. She was going to point it out to Percy, but then noticed him watching it, too.

After a minute, Annabeth lost disinterest and shifted, saying, "You must be tired, too, Percy. You don't have to keep holding me. Lay down."

He obeyed, gently sliding her head out of his lap after emptying her backpack and putting it under her head as a pillow.

He lay down beside her, his back to her, his body stiff and rigid, and Annabeth would have laughed at his obvious discomfort, but all she could think of was that he had to sleep on the cold, hard ground, and how he was so sweet to let her have the backpack as a pillow.

Annabeth wrapped her arms around him from behind, and they lay there, under the faint, but somehow comforting glow of the red moon above.

"Night, Seaweed Brain," she mumbled, falling asleep almost instantly, and she and Percy were snoring when Tenebris returned.


	17. XVII Annabeth

**Happy late birthday, Percy Jackson! You're technically what, like twenty now? I'm sorry I couldn't update on the proper day, August 18, but I was out of town with my family. Ah well. Here's the chapter anyway. Hope you enjoy! It's time for the villains' appearances! *evil laughter* And *sigh* hopefully this will be the last of the dream chapters, but no promises!**

**Book of the Day – ****_The Hobbit_**** and The Lord of the Rings Trilogy by J. R. R. Tolkien. Young adult fantasy/adventure. An epic read. Just, read it.**

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**XVII**

**ANNABETH**

**Annabeth didn't even realize** she was dreaming until she saw the giant face in the boulders.

She was standing on a few large rubbles of smooth, white rocks. She shifted her weight onto her right leg and was surprised when she could feel the sleek, stone texture under her feet. This dream was one of her more strange, realistic ones. Which most likely meant it was one of her demigod-related dreams.

In front of her were three separate lines of rivers, advancing for so many miles behind her they faded into the darkness. A few hundred feet in front of her, the rivers joined together to form a claw-like intersection, and the different colored waters mixed in a red, white, and black.

Annabeth recognized the rivers from studying up about the Underworld in an old History of Greek Mythology book. The white river, flowing swiftly and smoothly, was the River Cocytus, also known as "lament" or "the river of wailing." Even now, Annabeth could hear a faint moaning rising off of the waters. She shivered and automatically took a step away from it, although it was already a good distance from her.

The red one, with its churning, rough currents, was the River Pyriphlegethon. Steam wafted up from it, and Annabeth knew if she so much as dipped one toe in its waters, it would sear her whole foot off.

And the third river, the black one with its silent, slow, but strong-looking waters, was called the River Acheron, otherwise known as "joyless." It looked so foreboding Annabeth could hardly stand to look at it. She faced the temple that the rivers joined in front of, instead.

It was the House of Hades. That much was obvious, from its lit torches hanging on the tall black walls, the fire glowing green, to the ghosts drifting out of the tall arched doorway, the black door propped open. Etched on the door was the Ancient Greek word: Νεκρομαντεῖον, the name of the temple. Annabeth noticed that some of the ghosts were carrying baskets over their arms. She commanded her dream-vision to zoom in, and saw that the baskets seemed to be full of barley. The temple was two stories high, and the few square windows on the top floor were black, though Annabeth could make out a few dark shapes drifting by inside.

Then it appeared out of nowhere: dirt particles merging together in front of a group of dirty, gray rocks a few yards to Annabeth's right side. They formed the large face of a beautiful woman, with dark hair and closed eyes, a calm expression on her face, though Annabeth knew she was anything but peaceful.

_Gaea,_ Annabeth though vengefully.

_Not quite right, Annabeth Chase, for I am in another form tonight,_ the Earth goddess whispered in return. Her voice was sleepy, her words a bit slurred, Annabeth noted, like she was sleep-talking.

Annabeth racked her brain, then gasped and blurted out, "Terra? The Roman form of Gaea?"

_Well done,_ the goddess murmured.

"But . . . you can do that, too? Change your form? I thought only the gods could do that . . ." Annabeth said.

_Obviously not,_ Terra scoffed. _And while the gods' appearances and personalities change, I always remain the same. Although, I must admit, I do feel stronger and more invincible in my Roman form._

"Well, that'll just be another advantage for us to use against you when we destroy you," Annabeth said.

_My, my. You are so much more understanding than Percy Jackson,_ Terra mused. _I can hardly converse with that one-minded son of the sea god._

"He can be a bit stubborn," Annabeth couldn't help agreeing. Then she realized she was talking with _Gaea_. Roman form or not, this was their sworn, immortal enemy. And if the sly goddess got her to agree with her this fast, Annabeth had to be careful in their conversation.

"Why are you appearing in my dream? What do you want?" Annabeth growled.

_I have a message to deliver, and decided that the supposedly intelligent daughter of Athena would be the best to give it to. Also, I haven't had the privilege to speak with you, the seventh member of the demigod questers, yet,_ Terra said.

"What is the message?" Annabeth asked, bracing herself.

The goddess paused a moment before answering.

_You and Percy Jackson will never make it though Tartarus,_ she finally said, and her tone was sure and pronouncing.

Annabeth felt a cold feeling wash over her, like one of Percy's waves. But Percy always dried her with his water powers, laughing at her as she scowled at him, and this cold wouldn't go away. Annabeth was left trying not to shiver.

_Which is a bit of a disappointment, really, for I was going to have my minions capture you. But I can't have you survive, for your and Percy Jackson's fall into Tartarus was never part of my plans._ She clucked her tongue angrily, then added, _I knew it was a mistake, hiring that fool nemesis of your mother, the spider-woman Arachne._

"You're calling _Arachne_ a fool?" Annabeth couldn't help gasping. She felt terror seep into her at the mere mention of The Weaver.

_Please, it didn't even take long for _you_ to outwit her._ The Earth goddess sounded disgusted. _And you are only a child demigod, at that._

"I'm a daughter of Athena," Annabeth snapped.

_I will have two of your friends on the flying ship captured, instead,_ Terra continued. _Perhaps that son of Jupiter, Jason Grace, and his partner, the daughter of Aphrodite. Yes, they would make a powerful pair—though, sadly, not as powerful as you and Percy. For you see, I need the blood of two demigods to be spilled on the Ancient Stones to wake me on August first, when the destruction of the world will begin, and you and the son of the sea god have some very powerful auras that would be perfect for the job._

"Who are your minions that you speak of?" Annabeth asked.

_Mmmm._ Terra sounded as though she was making a decision. _Perhaps it would be easier to show you._

Then a picture filled Annabeth's dream, and she was watching a huge monster army, led by a horrible, cruel-looking giant, march across miles of green hills. Far off in the sky, she could just make out the tiny outline of a flying ship—the _Argo II_.

The giant turned to his horrible crowd and bellowed something to them, and Annabeth gasped as she realized the monster army was following the ship—and since the monsters weren't already blasted to dust by Leo's ballistae, the demigods on board must be unaware of the swarm following them.

Then the picture turned black, and Annabeth was staring at the rocks and Terra's face again.

Annabeth's heart raced, and she had an intense urge to warn the demigods on the _Argo II_ about what was following them. _I have to warn them. Someone has to let them know,_ her thoughts pounded in her head.

But she knew Terra was watching her closely, so she managed to keep her expression neutral.

"You're awfully chatty at the moment," Annabeth noted, crossing her arms. Maybe it was the goddess's different form, but _Gaea_ didn't seem like the type to just show off her minions.

Terra smiled, and, to Annabeth's disgust, her dream zoomed up even closer to the goddess's face, so that her whole head seemed to be filling the cave, and everything else was blocked out of Annabeth's vision. This close up to Terra's face, Annabeth became horrified when she noticed that the barest slits of white, like slivers of moons, showed where Gaea's top eyelid didn't quite connect with the lower lid, like she was stirring from a long dream and trying to wake up.

_I am at no risk, for you and the son of the sea god are as good as dead to me,_ Terra said.

Annabeth shivered again.

_Perhaps my minions could capture that daughter of Pluto and the son of Mars, instead,_ the goddess mused. _Their powers would be equally powerful, I think._

"Go to Tartarus," Annabeth spat.

_To join you and Percy? I think not. But now, I must rest, and save my strength for my time of rising, when I will use my powers to bring your and Percy Jackson's souls out of the Underworld just long enough to watch it, and the beginning of the destruction of the world._

"That won't happen," Annabeth said, raising her voice. "Because we _will_ make it through Tartarus, and fight off anything you throw at us. And we'll make it through the House of Hades and the Doors of Death, then me and my friends will find you and kick your butt into a deep-sleep."

Terra's face had gone emotionless. Annabeth couldn't tell if she was amused or furious with her blowup.

At last she spoke.

_I am not sure if it is because your intelligence reminds me of myself, or you have the bravery to throw false insults at me, but I am going to show you something, Annabeth Chase, one last thing before you die._

Then the boulders, the goddess's face, Hades's temple, and the rocks under Annabeth's feet all disappeared, to be replaced by a silent, black cave, which Annabeth stood outside of. She recognized the rocks to be those of the Underworld, and wondered which part of Tartarus this was in.

Annabeth squinted and could make out the faint outline of a huge, motionless figure sitting in the back of the cave. She could see thick bristles of hair lining the figure's side.

Then Annabeth realized that the cave _wasn't_ totally silent. There was a heavy breathing coming from the figure, and its side drew in and out.

Annabeth began trembling all over. She was getting a horrible, dangerous vibe from this thing—but that was obviously Gaea's—Terra's, whatever—intention. She wanted to frighten Annabeth, to make her as weak as possible.

But Annabeth couldn't help feeling afraid—she sensed such _evil_ from this creature that soon she was shaking and panting all over, and had to bend over and rest her hands on her knees.

She prayed to the gods that the figure didn't somehow sense that she was watching it.

But it must have noticed something, or heard her loudly pounding heart, because then Annabeth heard some shuffling, and the figure stood, growing into an enormous black mound, and began to make its way toward the mouth of the cave.

Annabeth gasped, craning her neck back to watch as it drew near the cave opening, growing larger with each step. She could easily see, now, by its size, that it was a _monster_, and Annabeth did not want to get near it. She'd have to warn Percy so they could watch out for it as they traveled through the Underworld with Tenebris. It would be just their luck if they did run into it.

The creature came even closer, light spilling over enormous hairy toes, cracked, yellow toenails, and meaty legs. Just as it was about to reach the entrance to the cave, Annabeth's dream swirled black, and she was left only guessing about the beast.

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**Which Percy Jackson and Heroes of Olympus book cover is your favorite? I really like ****_The Last Olympian_**** and ****_The House of Hades_**** ones.**

**I only got 1 review for each of the last two chapters, and I know it's ****_totally_**** possible to get at least 10 reviews per chapter (I have 29 followers and got over 70 views on the last two chapters) so review, guys! I even made it easier for you below!**

**Rate this chapter! Let me know in a review if it was either a) horrible, b) not my best, c) all right, d) good, or e) amazing.**


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